tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72051573878199586502024-03-13T16:23:20.482+05:30Meanderings and Reflectionspersonal reflections and observations of daily life, its idiosyncrasies, false notions, pseudo highlights, et al.S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.comBlogger575125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-38289747177922486962024-03-13T07:12:00.000+05:302024-03-13T07:12:25.376+05:30Why are you studying?<p> Yesterday as usual, I prompted my students to probe into why they were studying and shockingly most of them mentioned that they did not like to study. On being probed further, they admitted that they came to College only to satisfy their parents. Most of them were first generation learners whose parents had never stepped into the portals of higher education and hence wanted their children to be at least a B. A. pass. But the students who had the least interest in studying were unsatisfied with the courses that they had to study.</p><p>What are we doing as instructors?</p><p>Many students expressed that they would like to become artists - sketching, painting, etc. while some wanted to become professional cricketers or actors. Well, I did explain to them the other side of the 'passion' part which among many other choices of professions does not give them money! They seemed to have a fleeting knowledge of the struggles but I don't think that they thought deep enough about what they really wanted. Unlike our time, where we had a goal and a path planned ahead, the Gen-Z does not seem to take the whole idea of 'ambition' seriously. Money features as an integral part of their plan unlike our generation which did not discuss money that much. The Gen-Z also seems to discard many values that we held dear, which is understandable given that each generation has its own design and path. </p><p>I still hold on to the question of 'How are we to motivate the present crop of students as instructors?'</p><p>While the students realise that becoming an artist is not an easy endeavour, they are willing to try. One student has several side hustles to earn money which I thought was quite fascinating. But unlike our generation which did not give much thought about money, the present one seems to focus a lot of energy into thinking and making money.</p><p>Well, there are exceptions in every case and this is also another. What have you to say on this topic?</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWX5Ivc_eNv4k8WH60LtzXo6_yvkatSDNrBkndPPRRBwULcf1yvEd38jsAttK0k3OCHOc7s_G-krt9ZoSPplEtvayx8pOW7OT0gXbTdg1biOSYdSrLLnNXxT9zUGoDsjQa9l2zDQEHliaeP9LGHX59BZj2uZKp4jZFFRfAOwCFGF99n-OTsPvrNha5WSx_/s640/IMG_1535.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="451" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWX5Ivc_eNv4k8WH60LtzXo6_yvkatSDNrBkndPPRRBwULcf1yvEd38jsAttK0k3OCHOc7s_G-krt9ZoSPplEtvayx8pOW7OT0gXbTdg1biOSYdSrLLnNXxT9zUGoDsjQa9l2zDQEHliaeP9LGHX59BZj2uZKp4jZFFRfAOwCFGF99n-OTsPvrNha5WSx_/s320/IMG_1535.jpg" width="226" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-12480648968074817702024-02-28T20:34:00.000+05:302024-02-28T20:34:23.167+05:30Stray thoughts compiled<p> I wanted to eat an orange,</p><p>but you weren't there,</p><p>So, I asked my help who was mopping,</p><p>Both of us shared an orange,</p><p>and both of us spit the seeds.</p><p>Afterwards,</p><p>She mops</p><p>And I mope!</p><p>At least the words sound similar!</p>S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-33464649726148065952024-02-27T09:00:00.006+05:302024-02-27T12:32:11.338+05:30Things that I might never experience again<p style="text-align: justify;">This post is an inspiration from an Instapost which left me melancholic and nostalgic. I thought that I would make my list before I forget some of these things completely. This is an age of forgetting, you see.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYdq5RebliM8S8U5bt8xR4IbGdbSVDVbH4nUK9qryqJf2H-h8eaSvgWG6XpZupBahfmRpbcR3_mMfpO5K7Ou7K73EMck7kYz3zV1Y5-633_gQktlP2AO32i_kpc4_FIQKmdhl2i-doPUtRGGPwKAT7R6jHccsKJuGNuxbF0EFSa_cXKcZtEUYqOXWk-I1U/s4032/IMG_0073.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYdq5RebliM8S8U5bt8xR4IbGdbSVDVbH4nUK9qryqJf2H-h8eaSvgWG6XpZupBahfmRpbcR3_mMfpO5K7Ou7K73EMck7kYz3zV1Y5-633_gQktlP2AO32i_kpc4_FIQKmdhl2i-doPUtRGGPwKAT7R6jHccsKJuGNuxbF0EFSa_cXKcZtEUYqOXWk-I1U/s320/IMG_0073.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">First love, visit to the corner shop run by a Nadar, receiving letters, </span><span style="color: #8e7cc3;">MTV when it first began, leisure to wake up in one's own time, crispy vadai and tea without thoughts of cholesterol, </span><span style="color: #cc0000;">homework, birthday cards, swings, mystery film endings, running to find a meaning from a dictionary, 90s vibe, </span><span style="color: #800180;">time to travel without thinking of work, patience with predicting what people would say, not overthinking,</span><span style="color: #cc0000;"> eating ice-cream because I wanted to, MCC life, WCC vibes, the beauty of landline phones, </span><span style="color: #351c75;">the running to the phone booth to make an 'urgent' call, the magic of taking a flight, the slowness of a train journey, the sharing of tiffins, </span><span style="color: #134f5c;">the happiness of five rupees, drinking paneer soda for one rupee, radio, intellectual arguments of my young mind, meeting random people and talking to them . . .</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #134f5c;">Do you resonate?</span></p><p><span style="color: #b45f06;">Let me know in the comments.</span></p><p><span style="color: #b45f06;">Leaving you with a poem by Mary Oliver</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"> </span></span><span style="color: red; font-family: georgia; font-size: large; text-align: center;">Don’t Hesitate</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: red; font-family: georgia; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><span style="color: red; font-family: georgia; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.1em; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase;">BY MARY OLIVER</span></p><div class="entry-content" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 80px; margin-left: 118.891px;"><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="color: red; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />of lives and whole towns destroyed or about<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />to be. We are not wise, and not very often<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />kind. And much can never be redeemed.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />is its way of fighting back, that sometimes<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />something happens better than all the riches<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />or power in the world. It could be anything,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />but very likely you notice it in the instant<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.</span></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="color: red; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8RdKkSvxmXsCoBtx9OYndRKpITK1i6iQA__J54M6WW7qk30OTQ5TYwIVIKkLm5_3Qt-a2HvxECBTfxPy_kV4UaTl5YJWKxx1kWV92UrwyC2Gd_ASZQOUY2LC_beimb7yIpmt_HPl_gg5BvhrMKw1hTVcujoCYesBM1oeDH6D6FKV8dePMCne853nqNbea/s3264/IMG_4626.JPG" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8RdKkSvxmXsCoBtx9OYndRKpITK1i6iQA__J54M6WW7qk30OTQ5TYwIVIKkLm5_3Qt-a2HvxECBTfxPy_kV4UaTl5YJWKxx1kWV92UrwyC2Gd_ASZQOUY2LC_beimb7yIpmt_HPl_gg5BvhrMKw1hTVcujoCYesBM1oeDH6D6FKV8dePMCne853nqNbea/s320/IMG_4626.JPG" width="240" /></a> </span></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="color: red; font-family: georgia;"> Picture courtesy: My own</span></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="color: red; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p></div>S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-32835192411335982732023-08-02T10:47:00.000+05:302023-08-02T10:47:37.823+05:30Lessons from Barbenheimer<p> The past week since 21/07/2023 has been one of high intensity debates, reviews, observations and fun activities revolving around two films - <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christopher_Nolan">Christopher Nolan</a>'s <i><a href="https://www.oppenheimermovie.com/">Oppenheimer</a></i> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greta_Gerwig">Greta Gerwig</a>'s<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barbie_(film)"> </a><i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barbie_(film)">Barbie</a>. </i>The word<i> <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barbenheimer">Barbenheimer</a>, </i>a portmanteau of the titles of the two films has been coined by by the internet to discuss and partake in the conversations around these two much anticipated films of the year! For me, these discussions triggered many points of self-realisation which were pretty unpleasant.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjCjdB7ez-P1kBgCJW33XkncRLc7NHyXo9UrfSCU7FNMfRzqlGa3Hrvy1FJNawOfCBJy2hMunnPrY3Ogi8k_qeuUxCTJVwAwGPFFEeOOYpl92R4QN5CIAmztzpI9g8ctmnEiInf-f4loXnPZlIQ31Y6LU-g6Fe7lKMRYZsPhAN1RUWr_1LI9CqQffTQHfB3" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="163" data-original-width="310" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjCjdB7ez-P1kBgCJW33XkncRLc7NHyXo9UrfSCU7FNMfRzqlGa3Hrvy1FJNawOfCBJy2hMunnPrY3Ogi8k_qeuUxCTJVwAwGPFFEeOOYpl92R4QN5CIAmztzpI9g8ctmnEiInf-f4loXnPZlIQ31Y6LU-g6Fe7lKMRYZsPhAN1RUWr_1LI9CqQffTQHfB3" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p>1. The idea of shallowness</p><p>I have never played with Barbie or any kind of dolls so in the stereotypical manner, long before I had read about the movie <i>Barbie</i>, I had decided not to see it because I believed that I was not shallow! Well, I was proved wrong when I read the reviews and saw how shallow I was in judging something that I did not even know of. Well, the shallowness that I had associated with Barbie was <b><i>me</i></b> in fact! </p><p>2. The grand idea of 'Nolan'</p><p>Another stereotype that is cringeworthy is assuming that anything by Nolan is obviously woke! Well, it is! And Nolan is a great story-teller but to decide long before the release of the films, that I would watch <i>Oppenheimer </i>and not <i>Barbie, </i>goes to prove that my assumptions were coloured and biased. Well, I am ashamed!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPOXbZVwr3Zng7ZsfXHYth91U_RTYYW6-zjuWS-gKZbv7b_mk9Frkeo1h_WrnrkpUVfd31kqJW1f7ppdVH-qg_4FoyRZg0o-NCTZuqx5h2rFXxwIPs0wP9EQ7q1xgvBlS9TccBMtaTGbE2Ab1-izvTdmcze7oGHNxTA5d5xzpeBoHVG_tuNwsXPr99GKa7/s1164/Vintage_Malibu_Barbie_2_(cropped).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1164" data-original-width="800" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPOXbZVwr3Zng7ZsfXHYth91U_RTYYW6-zjuWS-gKZbv7b_mk9Frkeo1h_WrnrkpUVfd31kqJW1f7ppdVH-qg_4FoyRZg0o-NCTZuqx5h2rFXxwIPs0wP9EQ7q1xgvBlS9TccBMtaTGbE2Ab1-izvTdmcze7oGHNxTA5d5xzpeBoHVG_tuNwsXPr99GKa7/w147-h215/Vintage_Malibu_Barbie_2_(cropped).jpg" width="147" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaZoYvfNaQg1apgXtMfB2v1TPbW5zO8nEb7hVIWSavG5ee7rOf2RsNm49-k0KD9A_zm0DQ0rlMS-TybiIOSI3WN81-mfAoIBtmFKMI4cBQcIzX6o1BkRWqBiKnsXEXmN12GD_AUoFKFnLh8wIQB2OMv2Tr1G3Q4gpvKaEk-i9EXtwU55_iRiFE09--aqpk/s1164/Oppenheimer_(cropped).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1164" data-original-width="800" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaZoYvfNaQg1apgXtMfB2v1TPbW5zO8nEb7hVIWSavG5ee7rOf2RsNm49-k0KD9A_zm0DQ0rlMS-TybiIOSI3WN81-mfAoIBtmFKMI4cBQcIzX6o1BkRWqBiKnsXEXmN12GD_AUoFKFnLh8wIQB2OMv2Tr1G3Q4gpvKaEk-i9EXtwU55_iRiFE09--aqpk/w149-h217/Oppenheimer_(cropped).jpg" width="149" /></a></div></div><p>But this trend is seen among many peers and fellow people! An assumption that anything associated with Barbie is shallow (pardon by repeated usage of the word!) and the colour pink is detestable but anything associated with Nolan has to be intelligent and deep!</p><p>Well, I guess a doll is shallow but an atom bomb is worth it if we go by the comparisons of the objects that these two films focus upon. At the end of the day, both cause destruction - dolls on the inside and bombs on the outside (and inside too) if you know what I mean!</p><p>I hope that many of us have decided to move on beyond our judgmental attitudes and view everything with an open and kind mind. Have you seen the films yet?</p><p>Picture credit 1: <a href="https://metro.co.uk/2023/07/15/the-barbenheimer-dating-trend-proves-opposites-attract-19133802/">Internet</a></p><p>Picture credit 2 & 3: <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barbenheimer">Wikipedia</a></p>S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-75952575437571425012023-05-20T07:35:00.001+05:302023-05-20T07:35:36.940+05:30"I love meeting new people"<p> "I love meeting new people"</p><p>"I don't hesitate to talk to strangers"</p><p>"It's wonderful to connect to new people for they bring new perspectives"</p><p>The afore-mentioned lines can be commonly seen in many Twitter, Instagram and other profiles of people. Even I like to meet new people for the reason mentioned above. But but, the idea takes a jolt when one watches certain thriller series and Netflix documentaries. I recently watched the series, '<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dahaad">Dahaad</a>' on Amazon Prime which profiles a serial killer psychopath who approaches young women, befriends them and then in the most harmless manner, murders them without any remorse, regret or pain. Well, the American serial killer <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ted_Bundy">Ted Bundy</a> was no different. </p><p>When I was watching 'Dahaad,' my thoughts were on the lines of how true it is when parents warn children saying, "Don't talk to strangers" perhaps their collective memory held something that could've happened. The irony of the present day, "I love meeting new people" stares one in the eye. Of course, every walking person isn't a serial killer or a psychopath but how likely it is that we would know if we came across one in Instagram/Twitter or any other sites like Bumble, Tinder and others. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzbWJ34bOiF4gKKCpt_wOi1UGf2ag2ua3NwmyCB7EhrJK81SqePI3pyR1N1IOSMY-JyfwNhnbBKGEEvgwUMJvrdnRiimVHvB3RIHcRBRMfFqubRqRIs2QiktcxEaCPqW32qdjW9Kbgd3JLMpEUxkARsvfetZnMf9RZf_aVpyi06JRLKn0TXwNde44d4w" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="352" data-original-width="283" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzbWJ34bOiF4gKKCpt_wOi1UGf2ag2ua3NwmyCB7EhrJK81SqePI3pyR1N1IOSMY-JyfwNhnbBKGEEvgwUMJvrdnRiimVHvB3RIHcRBRMfFqubRqRIs2QiktcxEaCPqW32qdjW9Kbgd3JLMpEUxkARsvfetZnMf9RZf_aVpyi06JRLKn0TXwNde44d4w" width="193" /></a></div><p></p><p>Loneliness, nurture and a need for intimacy is something most individuals crave for and if someone who is first a stranger promises the qualities, why not is the question. For example, in 'Dahaad,' the women were past the marriageable age, belonged to the backward caste whose parents were unable to provide them with handsome dowries which led to their marriage getting delayed. The killer after a thorough check of the afore-mentioned details, snares the women with words and promises of marrying them and after establishing a trust, marries them and murders them. The man in question leads a seemingly normal life with wife and a kid alongside a respectable job as a college teacher. Well, how can anyone predict that the next person that they would probably befriend isn't a psychopath!</p><p>The thriller, raised many questions in my mind which of course, is another post for another day but the question still looms in my mind, "Should we not talk to strangers?" In the last episode of the series, the killer, after being arrested mentions, "Women who talk to strangers and get close to them should not be spared." Well, be your own judge.</p><p>Image courtesy: <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dahaad#/media/File:Dahaad_poster.jpg">Wikipedia</a></p><p><br /></p>S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-39162309138355986612023-05-07T08:24:00.001+05:302023-05-07T08:24:51.847+05:30A reader's plea and a writer's thoughts<p> My posts have been fermenting in my mind for the longest time. There were days when the fermentation was just appropriate for the posts were let out of the process. Alas! my posts have become pickled now and congealed within the crevices of my mind. Well, recently a student of mine (well, this is a rare phenomenon!) has begun reading my posts and posits questions and observations. This process of him commenting has filled me with a certain joie de vivre which in turn has made me promise myself that I should write more often.</p><p>The process of writing for me is also cathartic for me from the mundane-ness of everyday life which I seek to escape from. I know that the key is acceptance and reconciliation but that that hardly seems to work for me. I realise that I have to write to free my stifling thoughts and crude imaginations. Well, I hope to persevere and write.</p><p>Thanks dear Satyam for the childlike curiosity which makes me happy to write.</p><p>Well, tomorrow is another day!</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyhu1O-67-8Zcxtm84diVqi8b1tLEzgLmPzdpZZsXagUbS9w3YeP98EMnMuvF1lmdgvJnJ7-nS4oD7HOHllRLBgT20WOXMydEU-DzKAzFzdFQHZ5OasRKzqijHHKO94pSFl5jRRmacMlUlTbnxbrgRfcnj0RWQHxmFWcGUdf1kCINNquGUig-WXutKQg/s2448/IMG_4733.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyhu1O-67-8Zcxtm84diVqi8b1tLEzgLmPzdpZZsXagUbS9w3YeP98EMnMuvF1lmdgvJnJ7-nS4oD7HOHllRLBgT20WOXMydEU-DzKAzFzdFQHZ5OasRKzqijHHKO94pSFl5jRRmacMlUlTbnxbrgRfcnj0RWQHxmFWcGUdf1kCINNquGUig-WXutKQg/s320/IMG_4733.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-65436397952859204792022-12-06T01:17:00.001+05:302022-12-06T01:18:28.268+05:30Bellingham Diaries - 3<p><b> The Tale of the Wife's bath</b></p><p>The adjusting of the hot-water-cold-water has become something of a challenge for me. Talk of a neat challenge after the 40s - teaching new tricks to old dogs could be well, tricky! As much as I love bathing, it has become an exercise of planning and mental prep for me. First, I am more of a cold water person so you could possibly imagine the pressure of using hot water. Next, the long and inviting bathtub seems to be mocking at me whenever I head to its vicinity. It beckons me no doubt but is plotting its revenge on this bucket and mug loving middle-class Indian. Woe to me when I had imagined myself sipping gin and tonic in a bathtub while soaking my tired nerves on a normal day! Well, the wish had come true but at the cost of me spending minutes trying to figure 1. the shower/tap toggling and 2. the hot/cold toggling. After much swearing and exasperation, I figure out the p-r-e-c-i-s-e requirement only to find that the shampoo has been forgotten in the suitcase! Phew! I have to invariably call out to the ever preoccupied husband who finds it difficult to find stuff even if it is in his hands. After all this ordeal, I complete my bath and come out to spend an hour mulling over my existential issues of trying to be someone who manages everything fairly well. </p><p>And not forgetting the semantics of showering and bathing which is a puzzle to me!</p><p>I also realise that I have a similar post on bathing when I visited Belfast in 2010. And, sure I am happy to know that certain parts of me haven't changed at all. So here you go: <a href="http://www.susan-deborah.org/2010/05/deliberations-of-bathing-in-foreign.html">Deliberations of bathing in a foreign place.</a></p><p>Dear reader, I hope that you find baths that satisfy your body and soul. </p><p>May the water temperature suit your body and may you be refreshed and happy.</p><p>Until the next adventure, take care.</p><p><br /></p>S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-40704925276979551312022-12-03T22:47:00.001+05:302022-12-03T22:47:49.669+05:30Bellingham Diaries - 2<p> Snow is always romanticized in the imaginations of those who don't experience snow in their regions. Well, I was also one of those whose imagination was fascinated by the whole idea of snow, white Christmas and so on. I first experienced snow when I trekked the Himalaya in 2006. Snow is beautiful, no doubt but it is also slippery, chilly and demands layers of clothes if one has to walk outside when it snows. Like the rain, snow is also beautiful when indoors with a regulated warm temperature. So much for the 'idea' of snow. That said and done, this morning when we woke up, we opened the doors to find it white. Our first expression was of awe by the sight of the beautiful whiteness. We rushed to find our mobile phones (camera) and capture the beauty of the romance known as 'snow.' I took many pictures and shared it via Whatsapp, Instagram and Facebook and bang, the magic of snow was paused for some time. After some time, it was forgotten as we got into the more important tasks of preparing breakfast, and attending to other morning chores.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDPq9Z8rlwNmh3xpYtPnyvLNPlPEyob_a_vu8erimMn73jwnUDI9JBgKegyVGc5fbWk6MFo7vO_7m98sdoMgTr9008XKf259Kg1nw0E5-s7o-iM6XIOHRd9qdRJXeEq3VEFJEFnnfudsSAMIRI6ZfoWEQkJxNaFSNl9P3F-vwLEGsV3Am7RVAEbDEPdQ/s2048/318104840_10158613612322513_5023862549933405203_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDPq9Z8rlwNmh3xpYtPnyvLNPlPEyob_a_vu8erimMn73jwnUDI9JBgKegyVGc5fbWk6MFo7vO_7m98sdoMgTr9008XKf259Kg1nw0E5-s7o-iM6XIOHRd9qdRJXeEq3VEFJEFnnfudsSAMIRI6ZfoWEQkJxNaFSNl9P3F-vwLEGsV3Am7RVAEbDEPdQ/s320/318104840_10158613612322513_5023862549933405203_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ff00fe;"><b>The view in front of our home in Bellingham</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p>But I do know that when I narrate the sighting of snow in the future, I would be all wonder-eyed and soft as I render the story of my first snow in Bellingham; My listeners in return would be dreaming when they will 'see' snow for real in their lives. Both of us dream - one about the past and one for the future.</p><p>Well, tomorrow is another day.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqXCGDmW7lxel3pTusMclLZeHNhTfE10p44lNVr4Hb4RbByCcz0-4i7UR5hTAl3UsP20TRSdfuYowIo2B15a1z4hq0loWYI96reKeMYOFhiSY-48Ib17fzxqTs4dsT6t6Ax0ITCgF_FDoS5c-PceyQX1_tMKdEeBgsAn2eP6f7c-JwZ5drD5X-WLq8xg/s600/318005184_10158613612297513_354886667222660760_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="450" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqXCGDmW7lxel3pTusMclLZeHNhTfE10p44lNVr4Hb4RbByCcz0-4i7UR5hTAl3UsP20TRSdfuYowIo2B15a1z4hq0loWYI96reKeMYOFhiSY-48Ib17fzxqTs4dsT6t6Ax0ITCgF_FDoS5c-PceyQX1_tMKdEeBgsAn2eP6f7c-JwZ5drD5X-WLq8xg/s320/318005184_10158613612297513_354886667222660760_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #800180;"><b>Another view</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>See you tomorrow with more snippets of my sojourn in Bellingham.</p><p><br /></p><p> </p>S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-77463199661050100432022-12-03T02:25:00.003+05:302022-12-03T02:25:27.626+05:30Bellingham Diaries - 1<p> </p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXRBBeU1ahHJZPnzZn3IEM8HCYZEXdpzU6qqKFjsop_Yq4DXt1jn7s9sdhpcnCVS0dRKjqUUhSUNExqxyIv9xMcK_wTBVAmmyQeJjRkORuEnm-ZTzavdoTe_QeZJwwqjHGUpuozhYKjqtsZtcpzC5DH6SCMPz14zPCQligBMFHCEbjnQiDcaz37YLblg/s1440/Seattle%20from%20the%20skies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1126" data-original-width="1440" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXRBBeU1ahHJZPnzZn3IEM8HCYZEXdpzU6qqKFjsop_Yq4DXt1jn7s9sdhpcnCVS0dRKjqUUhSUNExqxyIv9xMcK_wTBVAmmyQeJjRkORuEnm-ZTzavdoTe_QeZJwwqjHGUpuozhYKjqtsZtcpzC5DH6SCMPz14zPCQligBMFHCEbjnQiDcaz37YLblg/s320/Seattle%20from%20the%20skies.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seattle from the skies</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p><br />It has been a long time since I actively posted in this space. I just slid the glass pane over the mesh window because it was getting chilly. Well, the temperature here is now 4 degree C and I am getting used to being in a place without fans and curtains. My husband has been here in Bellingham since August and he seems to be managing well. This is my first day here. I had arrived here last night (01 December here) and after being up and about, I thought I would engage with my readers (if I still have them) and sharing my new experience. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxadHQLocdAfg07cGG-aoj16rqEWtv5-aRIGFrfmFW16MTCaukWGb8wAkdV9GPebzXl3F8LkI9JU8aLhujOpJTALJ0Bm1StuKB6SxKOZazT55EvMhDf40VY8IjDCT38waDnfs6vQzIBjVpriUGjSHERnxHjGWSsp6pg2iA7_QyZ37WvKdfpD92g9kPWg/s4032/IMG-1192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxadHQLocdAfg07cGG-aoj16rqEWtv5-aRIGFrfmFW16MTCaukWGb8wAkdV9GPebzXl3F8LkI9JU8aLhujOpJTALJ0Bm1StuKB6SxKOZazT55EvMhDf40VY8IjDCT38waDnfs6vQzIBjVpriUGjSHERnxHjGWSsp6pg2iA7_QyZ37WvKdfpD92g9kPWg/s320/IMG-1192.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from the front door</td></tr></tbody></table><p>The journey from Goa to Seattle was quite smooth save the unsmiling faces of the <a href="https://www.parisaeroport.fr/en">Charles de Gaulle airport</a> in France. Everywhere I had people glaring. Perhaps I with no knowledge of French and looking tired might have irked them. Well, no complaints, I did meet some kind faces too. People are different in diverse places - some respond to a smile, some don't; some have kind eyes, while some have scrutinising eyes; some welcome strangers with a kind face while some have a wooden expression. I guess when we talk of travelling and crossing the borders of home, we are filled with exciting thoughts and create a huge pink bubble where we romanticise the onward journey. Well, a journey is filled with myriad people and diverse experiences.</p><p>This is the second B of my international travel, the first one being <a href="http://www.susan-deborah.org/2010/04/which-is-best-place-to-visit-in-india.html">Belfast</a>. Both these journeys have a gap of twelve years, in the interim where a big chunk of my life was spent in getting a Ph. D., marrying, setting up home, getting a new job, reveling in my students, getting high on life, learning, unlearning and relearning many taken-for-granted stuff. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHzVcgjg0I8juQRmZUdob9kSd-hf3mu5kVy_6FCHLxQI1YLPKvOk91mn_FClOZsJeLo850UBvfO1xWhaxxjoGMGMC-4l6zjAIbDujDILArqhLNgLYYiNEbW2cS9-dlAnHtU48Ussl2RTu8f3I-xcfcTAvPRQKMByYjIQpQnj7kLuq-zpGJKHSowIOrNg/s4032/IMG-1184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHzVcgjg0I8juQRmZUdob9kSd-hf3mu5kVy_6FCHLxQI1YLPKvOk91mn_FClOZsJeLo850UBvfO1xWhaxxjoGMGMC-4l6zjAIbDujDILArqhLNgLYYiNEbW2cS9-dlAnHtU48Ussl2RTu8f3I-xcfcTAvPRQKMByYjIQpQnj7kLuq-zpGJKHSowIOrNg/s320/IMG-1184.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Well, here's to Bellingham and newer stories.</p><p>See you soon.</p>S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-45783831425387706802022-05-08T20:06:00.002+05:302022-05-08T20:06:56.450+05:30After the Fire!<p>On the 08th of April while most of India was sleeping, a kind and alert neighbour who has never called me before, called me on my mobile phone. The time was about 04. 43 am. The number was unknown and my groggy self was quite baffled to decipher as to why someone would make a call in that time. After confirming that it was me, he indicated that there was smoke coming out of our kitchen and asked us to get out of the house. I awoke my sleeping husband and along with our nonhuman companion, rushed out of the house but not without opening the kitchen door and trying to see what was happening; I could not make out anything. Later we found out that our fridge caused the fire burning the entire kitchen in the process. </p><p>We were homeless for a week, living in a temporary arrangement for we could not live in the house which was blackened by soot carrying a strong odour of burnt residue. </p><p>-----</p><p>That was a month ago.</p><p>Today we have shifted our house and still settling in the new house. Alongside everything, my meandering mind was shuttling back and forth to the old dwelling place from where we were unceremoniously driven away. It still seems strange to us that while we retired to our bed the previous night, little did we know that exactly a month after, we would be waking up in a different house. The uncertainty of life hit us hard but we were quite gracefully accepting the blows. We did not panic. But there were many questions from some of my friends; They argued whether life was trying to tell us something or we were being warned by the divine power. R and I were just focusing on what had to be done - clearing whatever was available and packing the things in boxes to be carried to the other house which was thankfully in the same campus. The whole memory trigger which was laying still chose to hit hard while we were packing. Most of the items reminded me either of people, incidents, moments or generally a time in the past when things were different and we were younger. While I was thinking of something and mechanically packing, my husband was quite focused on meticulously packing (thanks to him, I cannot find many things). </p><p>While bits and pieces of our stuff still remains in the boxes, we have completed most of it. It took us a month to get used to the present house--the walls, the switches, the nooks, corners, and everything else. Sometimes I sit and stare at the new rooms that my old stuff occupies and feel weird because though I know the items, I imagine them in my old place and picturing them in the new place is something that I have to get used to. </p><p>Cooking in the new kitchen though exciting suddenly pulls me back to the crammed kitchen and I search for an item in the exact place that I had kept it in the old place. Then I physically shake myself and nod--a nod to remind me that we have shifted to a new place. </p><p>Getting up in the mornings is also a challenge at times but yes I am slowly getting myself cocooned in the present house and forcing comfort out of the walls and windows. Whether one lives in one's own house or a house provided by the employer, the lived experience is the same. We form a kinship with the nooks and corners, passages, walls and bathrooms.</p><p>Well, life has to go on and tomorrow is another day.</p>S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-42106310368382708252022-01-15T11:54:00.000+05:302022-01-15T11:54:25.900+05:30What's your Proustian madeleine?<p><span style="font-family: times;">Reading an <a href="https://thewire.in/books/maria-aurora-couto-obituary">article</a> of <a href="https://thewire.in/books/maria-aurora-couto-obituary">Raghu Karnad</a> this morning, I came across the phrase, <span style="background-color: white; color: #282828; letter-spacing: 0.2px;">Proustian </span><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/oct/19/proust-madeleine-cakes-started-as-toast-in-search-of-lost-time-manuscripts-reveal" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #b71c1c; letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-decoration-line: none;">madeleine</a>. The phrase led me into the magic hole of nostalgia where I started walking the sweet lane of my growing up years. What were the sweets that I enjoyed while I was living through a time when I didn't realise how precious those years would be in the coming years. </span></p><p>There was peanut candy where peanuts were soaked in liquid jaggery and hardened to give a fine texture. These candies can be found even today sometimes the taste unaltered. It was eaten mindlessly during different times of the day. It was so commonplace that one attached no value of significance to it. It was called <i>kadalaimittai. </i>It is not much of a nostalgia because one feels this emotion when one misses something. But the simple sweet is much available. Perhaps nostalgia is for the lost days of yore.</p><p>Another sweet is the <i>then mittai</i>. I don't have many memories of the sweet except for occasional treats now and then. It isn't nostalgia material for me. But I remember the taste of the sweet and I don't see it anymore. It used to melt in the mouth oozing honey; it was a stark difference to the texture of <i>kadalaimittai</i> which was hard and chewy. </p><p>Another sweet we used to enjoy was the <i>palkhoa </i>or the milk sweet. My grandfather used to treat us with the <i>palkhoa</i> and sev which is known as <i>omapodi.</i> The combination is a deadly one. We were looking forward to eating that combo whenever my grandfather used to return from his daily outings. Now neither my grandfather nor the <i>omapodi</i> is relished by me - the grandfather is no more and the <i>omapodi</i> disappeared after his death. But once a while my sister and I talk about those days. In spite of the <i>omapodi</i> still available in the market, it isn't the same!</p><p>I guess I wasn't much of 'sweet' person to remember the delicacies of my growing up years. But nostalgia makes everything sepia tinted and mellow which led me into a sweet trail of Proustian madeline!</p><p>What's your Proustian madeline?</p>S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-4666015147606595642021-11-09T17:33:00.001+05:302021-11-09T17:36:47.974+05:30What is a holiday?<p> I often wonder,</p><p>What is a holiday?</p><p>Is it - a complete break from monotony or</p><p>a change of place</p><p>or</p><p>No usual duties</p><p>or </p><p>laden with work in the mind but pretending that it is not work day!</p><p>The idea of cutting off from routine cannot be understood by me -</p><p>for I cannot wake late or remain unbathed or postpone breakfast.</p><p>I carry work within my head,</p><p>but postpone doing it.</p><p>I try to ignore work messages by saying to myself, "I am on vacation."</p><p>But the after-holiday thought hoists itself on me wrecking havoc.</p><p>Deadlines love me.</p><p>I guess I share an intimate karmic connection with them.</p><p>They chase me and I chase them. We love playing hide-and-seek,</p><p>but almost always, we end up losing sight of each other.</p><p>And when a holiday chances upon my schedule, the deadlines arrive,</p><p>in pomp and glory.</p><p>Grinning and laughing - I choose to play along.</p><p>And I always lose.</p><p><br /></p>S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-17103777336559332802021-06-11T17:56:00.003+05:302021-06-11T17:58:43.077+05:30Strange times of teaching and learning<p> A blogger friend on Instagram posted on how working from home, though comfortable, makes her miss the office routine of having complete time for oneself in terms of work and socialising. While reading and responding to her post, I realised that my predicament was a mixture of many emotions. During the first lockdown starting March 2020, the fear of the virus and the comfort in the confines of the home made me create a routine in which I managed to thrive quite well. Then in June 2020, the college reopened (no students and no classes but we still had to go to college) and I found myself weary and complaining - there was no point in going to work when there wasn't any need to. The new academic year began in September 2020, I think, and the prospect of classes beginning gave a new energy to me and I was looking forward to the online classes after a long break; when the classes finally began, the students and I were collectively lamenting that we could not see each other and observe the expressions of each other. September passed and so did October and we grew familiar and comfortable with the new mode of teaching-learning albeit punctuated with complaints now and then but overall smooth sailing. I was especially despondent that I could not connect with my first year students who had newly joined college not that I was familiar with the second year students who I had not taught previously.</p><p>2020 gave way to 2021 and somewhere there was a tiny thought that the virus would die off and things would gradually return to normalcy. How wrong was I! 2021 seemed to be unfurling like 2020 (March onwards). The online mode of classes continued with few weeks of working from home whenever someone tested positive.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fQ1NtrKz0IA/YMNVFTFpbaI/AAAAAAAAGJM/w7raVl8hXwgUOR2IPf21vBzAColZFXw-QCLcBGAsYHQ/s2578/IMG_6190%2528Edited%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1220" data-original-width="2578" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fQ1NtrKz0IA/YMNVFTFpbaI/AAAAAAAAGJM/w7raVl8hXwgUOR2IPf21vBzAColZFXw-QCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_6190%2528Edited%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Online mode of teaching</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br />The new academic year was slated to begin from February in offline mode for the students in their final year of study and the rest online. I oscillated between feeling happy and morose. On one hand, I was eager to finally 'see' students face to face while on the other hand, I thought I would miss the comfort zone of online teaching which allowed me to sit in a comfortable position and conduct my classes. Well, on the appointed day, the students came and briefly we were both excited and elated. </p><p>Then the troubles began . . .</p><p>The students started to bunk college. The strength of the students began to steadily decline because they were unable to easily shake off their lackadaisical ways of attending classes from the comfort of their beds and breakfasts; the pyjama and home clothes had to be exchanged for early morning rush hours and presentable clothes. The sheen of offline classes though was welcome in the beginning began to wash off. The reason for this was that though the offline classes had resumed, the normalcy wasn't restored. The wearing of masks, social distancing and constant talk of the virus had killed the easy and relaxed ambience of a campus setup. There were days when I had to drag myself to a class dreading to see the faces of students. I longed for the online classes because either way we had to go to college everyday.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m2OHqpGLOaA/YMNVyvMH3eI/AAAAAAAAGJU/YMEnp5__JNQhCf8uwcLsDaYtyK9KlsLfACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/F1832067-3EBE-472D-B289-A24C39F41A79.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m2OHqpGLOaA/YMNVyvMH3eI/AAAAAAAAGJU/YMEnp5__JNQhCf8uwcLsDaYtyK9KlsLfACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/F1832067-3EBE-472D-B289-A24C39F41A79.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Empty college campus</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br />In April 2021, the cases were rising and the scenario in our state was going from bad to worse. Online mode again! And then the curfew led to suspension of classes which were termed as 'vacation.' I still don't understand my thoughts when it comes to online classes. I am at a loss unable to decipher what I feel and think. Though I am able to comfortably navigate through both the modes, I tend to oscillate in my preferences solely because I tend to hold a picture that is closer to 'normalcy,' which I know would never be restored as before. In the midst of these, the quality of the classes is my concern as well. Sometimes I am unable to give my 100 per cent and function as though everything is normal. It is here that the mental health of teachers come into the picture. As important stakeholders in the education system, it is vital that instructors allow themselves to take time to observe the various changes both mental and physical that they undergo during these times. Understanding themselves either by observation or with the help of others would enable the students also to be able to perceive the changes that these times have brought about. </p><p>Everyone should be able to acknowledge the fact that this isn't a mere change in the mode of teaching but a paradigm shift that comes with its own challenges and takes time to adapt and engage.</p>S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-5961707222710597402021-05-19T12:49:00.006+05:302021-05-19T13:14:42.869+05:30Reading in difficult times<p><span style="color: #660000; font-family: georgia;"> One has to admit that reading is a highly inclusive and individual activity which cuts one off from the immediate environs and of course the world outside. While it is a worthy and much commended activity, it also reeks of privilege and a certain 'social uppity.' I realised this the past year and pretty much this year too. I could not read! I could not allow myself to wander and get lost in the pages of a book. It felt snobbish and unkind. I did not read much. Every time I had allowed my self to open a book, I had to close it after a few pages. A disclaimer here: I did admire those who could read and complete books during these grim times and I do not intend to cast aspersions on them. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-grMbb71OFSw/YKTBCB2UpDI/AAAAAAAAGGc/Gc-U41rUTmc9vc5H738gNzi3YBfnMiZ1gCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/AF4C78EB-5554-4EAE-A9B3-09EB53A9F63A.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-grMbb71OFSw/YKTBCB2UpDI/AAAAAAAAGGc/Gc-U41rUTmc9vc5H738gNzi3YBfnMiZ1gCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/AF4C78EB-5554-4EAE-A9B3-09EB53A9F63A.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span style="color: #660000; font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="color: #660000; font-family: georgia;">For me, it felt heavy to relax with a book and complete it. If I did pick up a book, I took lot of time to turn the pages and sometimes body fatigue got the better of me. Go to see, reading is definitely an act of privilege - that one could cocoon oneself with a book sans care, sans time and sans many aspects stands testament to that. Here I am not even including the privilege of education, ability to possess and borrow books and afford the luxury of knowing good books. </span></p><p><span style="color: #660000; font-family: georgia;">In spite of all the privileges and sense of escape that books offer, I could not see myself as anyone else but one who loves a good read. I have read through sickness, through my doctoral journey, my heartbreaks, my anger, my feelings of being incompetent and many other such predicaments. But all these also do not prevent me from seeing the point that books are meant for a time - every time cannot be reading time. Of course, there might be many who would argue otherwise but this deliberation belongs to me and how I see them. </span></p><p><span style="color: #660000; font-family: georgia;">The last two years (Beginning 2020 March) has been particularly difficult for me in terms of reading. I haven't been reading as much as I would have liked to but I do pick up an occasional book only to crawl through the pages rather unwillingly. There are times when I would want to lose myself and shut the world off deliberately and hence I read. Sometimes I read because I start panicking whether I would lose my love of the written word and therefore I shouldn't keep away too long from reading. But could one forget to read, I wonder. Common sense says 'no' but my inner compass admonishes me.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5PpC11z6mlM/YKTATFTjdZI/AAAAAAAAGGU/d_bXdZUHeXUSzSf26HAiCbMMMLXDcY-dwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/07FB060A-631C-4B60-BB78-28F893A9A876.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5PpC11z6mlM/YKTATFTjdZI/AAAAAAAAGGU/d_bXdZUHeXUSzSf26HAiCbMMMLXDcY-dwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/07FB060A-631C-4B60-BB78-28F893A9A876.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span style="color: #660000; font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="color: #660000; font-family: georgia;">Of late, I forced myself to pick up Albert Camus' <i>The Plague </i>- a fitting volume for the present day and time. And after long, the book engaged me enough that I did not put it away. After all, it's a mirror to the times that we are living. <span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is unputdownable for the reason that Camus seems to have imagined every single aspect of the pandemic in great detail. Every situation and sentiment in the book made me think of the present day predicament and it has been captured so well. Nothing goes unpredictable. Every single thought that has been described by the narrator has oft covered my mind - the feeling of exile, the thought that this phase is temporary, the despair of not being able to travel, the longing to connect to a loved one far away - it’s so eerily similar that I started feeling that if even one of our political leaders had read this book, they would’ve been able to understand the workings of how to handle an epidemic. </span></span></p><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: georgia;">I’ve still not completed the volume but whatever I have read is enough to write this. I forgot to add - this book was picked up when we were in the midst of a power cut which lasted for 63 hours.</span></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: georgia;">Has the pandemic altered your reading habits?</span></div>S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-28698562609944792892021-04-04T19:34:00.000+05:302021-04-04T19:34:08.830+05:30Waiting!S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-60988321029995627082020-12-09T23:14:00.004+05:302020-12-09T23:17:26.091+05:30The left and right of the earphones!<p><b><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> I</span></b> sometimes wonder that I spend most of the screen time interspersed with trying to find the minute L and R of the <a href="https://earhugz.com/blogs/fitness-and-tech-news/why-do-headphones-have-left-and-right-on-them#:~:text=If%20you're%20listening%20to,ear%20can%20make%20a%20difference.&text=If%20you're%20wearing%20your,actually%20be%20on%20your%20left.">earphones</a>. It has become an obsession. I can never seem to remember the left and the right looking at them. Some of them know it. I don't. I forget. </p><p><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;">Every</span></p><p><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;">Single </span></p><p><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;">Time!</span></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A4zPx4NrLG4/X9EMNxwbvgI/AAAAAAAAF4I/N935oiWx54ke9wbsviuECEKWhqy-ZR2oACLcBGAsYHQ/s500/pexels-photo-248510.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A4zPx4NrLG4/X9EMNxwbvgI/AAAAAAAAF4I/N935oiWx54ke9wbsviuECEKWhqy-ZR2oACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/pexels-photo-248510.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I think that I would remember this details the next time I use the earphones but I fumble and try to read the minute L and R. I have to be sure to get the complete experience. Sometimes I think that the details don't matter. But a small voice reminds, "The devil is in the details." What an evil simile! Why the devil? Why not someone else? Why so much power to the devil? For that matter why couldn't it be, "The victory is in the details" or " The power is in the details?" A bit of research into the origin reveals that the idiom is a German saying. Well, so much so for the English language. Well, the confusion between earphones and headphone and pods is another post for another day!</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IkQACWtFvhQ/X9EMpcOnjhI/AAAAAAAAF4Q/qzr6Ub2CxGIjj7w7IXPrWGtU8_GR-1SxQCLcBGAsYHQ/s500/pexels-photo-983831.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IkQACWtFvhQ/X9EMpcOnjhI/AAAAAAAAF4Q/qzr6Ub2CxGIjj7w7IXPrWGtU8_GR-1SxQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/pexels-photo-983831.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>The details are sometimes unnecessary stress! I find myself frantically searching for the minute L and R when I have to conduct online lectures. From being someone who never used head/earphones, I have landed myself on the other end of the spectrum where L and R have become the bane of my existence. I guess I should enroll myself in OCD Anonymous with specific reference to earphone L and R obsession.</p><p>This and more is the effect of the virus in my routine. </p>S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-4121187661950444462020-12-06T14:14:00.007+05:302020-12-06T23:42:33.658+05:30A clean, well-lighted place: The importance of spaces for the mind<p><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kbkFn14-2rk/X8yGhQJ1NjI/AAAAAAAAF28/ao5ARPI7cBMKTMtw2RpwLinCTNxRIdASwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG-5154.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kbkFn14-2rk/X8yGhQJ1NjI/AAAAAAAAF28/ao5ARPI7cBMKTMtw2RpwLinCTNxRIdASwCLcBGAsYHQ/w240-h320/IMG-5154.jpg" width="240" /></a> "A clean, well-lighted place" is a short story by the American writer, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ernest_Hemingway">Ernest Hemingway</a>. When I entered the <i><a href="https://www.facebook.com/CafeinGoa">Café ChaiCoffee</a> </i>(hereafter <i>CCC</i>), it is this title which resonated in my mind. Incidentally the short story is set in a café and through the waiters and one elderly patron, discuss life and its happenings. Places and spaces are quite an important feature in the lives of people who thrive on ideas and stories - and if the place is well lighted with greenery, it is an added advantage.</p><p>When we first heard of <i>CCC</i>, we were quite exhilarated to discover the place which was just a few kilometers away from where we lived. The next day we drove to the place after speaking at length to Sneha, who is the proprietor of the café. Exuding warmth and enthusiasm, she filled our senses with a sense of welcome and camaraderie. As we followed the directions, we gradually were transported into another world amidst the sounds and boisterous main roads of Dabolim. The place which is tucked away could truly be described as a treasure waiting to be experienced and savoured. The first sights that greeted us as we parked our vehicle charmed us while we tried to choose an apt place for sitting and working. </p>While I had no knowledge of the Café owners or their long association with art and artists, I googled <a href="http://www.rajbhandare.com/">Raj Bhandare</a> - and imagine the surprise when I discovered that he is the brain behind the Nirvana brand of T-shirts, which is one of my favourite brands with its quirky and urban art prints. My day was made! And then when I looked up the café, I found art alive in every space, inviting one to get lost in the ambience.<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SR73il5PtYs/X8yHLobq9aI/AAAAAAAAF3Q/XbkqQLg-mTIhRGZFQhjZ_CzIJp8UmMHEQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG-5153.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="181" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SR73il5PtYs/X8yHLobq9aI/AAAAAAAAF3Q/XbkqQLg-mTIhRGZFQhjZ_CzIJp8UmMHEQCLcBGAsYHQ/w241-h181/IMG-5153.jpg" width="241" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: left;">When the space makes one happy and calm, the food becomes secondary. But if the food is close-by, the sense of fulfilment is immense. A senior waiter in the short story, reminisces on the importance of having a clean, well-lighted place to spend time and savour diverse things of life be it time or memories. The waiter is spot on because more than a café to spend time, it is important that the place is clean and well-lighted so that an individual feels at home. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoTableGrid" style="border-collapse: collapse; border: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184;">
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b><o:p> </o:p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: trebuchet; font-size: x-large; font-style: italic;">"You do not understand. This is a clean and pleasant café. It is well lighted." </span></b></span></p><div><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>~ 'A Clean, Well-lighted Place'</b></i></span></span></div>
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</tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: trebuchet;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gqj0kHvMhLo/X8yHLQnBC0I/AAAAAAAAF3M/JK3dfKCV0bIfug2GrFU4vxN2maN6MdcmwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG-5155.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="248" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gqj0kHvMhLo/X8yHLQnBC0I/AAAAAAAAF3M/JK3dfKCV0bIfug2GrFU4vxN2maN6MdcmwCLcBGAsYHQ/w186-h248/IMG-5155.jpg" width="186" /></a></div><p><i>CCC</i> is the newest landmark for those who enjoy quiet spaces splashed with art and a friendly ambience along with short eats to boot. A wonderful space to sit and work without disturbance punctuated with food and friendly chats with the hosts who make it a point to visit each table and share pleasantries which by itself is a delightful gesture. </p><p>While I reminisce on Hemingway and well-lighted places, you could visit the café for an experience worth revisiting and remembering. <i>CCC</i> is located in Lane 3, Upper Orchard, Near M. E. S. College, Zuarinagar-Goa.</p><p>Happy soaking in <i>CCC</i>.</p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kXxeI5beonQ/X8yY8gjee_I/AAAAAAAAF3k/AIsKYej_5q4-LW9qJDK5Z0Eej_uVF3bwACLcBGAsYHQ/s300/ccccc.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kXxeI5beonQ/X8yY8gjee_I/AAAAAAAAF3k/AIsKYej_5q4-LW9qJDK5Z0Eej_uVF3bwACLcBGAsYHQ/s0/ccccc.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p></div>S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-16806605137725155512020-11-13T18:37:00.001+05:302020-11-13T18:46:26.959+05:30Thinking beyond low-cost airlines: Thoughts around Soorarai Pottru<p> Suriya's recent film, <i>Soorarai Pottru</i> goes beyond the trope of a hard-working middle-class individual fulfilling his dreams with sweat and toil - it is reminiscent of the existing gap between the rich and the middle-class. The antagonist Paresh who derides the common man sitting next to the likes of him and flying is a stark reflection how 'certain' facilities are seen as available only for an exclusive percentage of people. Liberalisation and consumer driven economy slowly started diminishing the exclusivity of the upper class people. The rising ability of the middle class to spend money on brands and other durables started dissolving the divide thereby causing the upper class sections to reach out for products that were more exclusive than the existing ones. Many middle-class people who were slightly better off than those in the same class started feeling the brunt of affordability of prized brands such as Fabindia, film festivals such as IFFI and many other such events which was considered the space for only a 'certain' kind of crowd. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.dnaindia.com/entertainment/report-soorarai-pottru-trailer-suriya-brings-air-deccan-founder-capt-gr-gopinath-s-story-to-life-in-this-inspiring-movie-2852303" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RMRw0ETgsuE/X66EUxs0tnI/AAAAAAAAF1I/PMaICB2I730nF8-8neEVfdlgDnqrlq3LQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/933609-sooraraipottru-trailer.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>Captain Gopinath's victory ushered in that space which was usually considered as the privilege of a select few. Paresh's disdain of the common man with his sweat, grime and low status is actually a reflection of many middle-class sections who are able to afford many durables which was hitherto unavailable to their parents and forefathers. When the grapes which were now attainable were no longer sour, the same availability to certain others causes a sourness of the mind. </p><p>The mind is powerful to ascertain the status of people based on their appearance, language and habits. It is the same mentality which considers knowledge of English as superior and a certain background. Talking in the native tongue is most often looked upon with a frown and displeasure. Similarly a well dressed person is treated with respect in the clothes/jewelley/shoes showrooms which reflects on the person who is meting out this treatment. But it mustn't be forgotten that the person who is an employee in that particular showroom might come from a similar background of those who he is 'taught' to despise and show disdain. </p><p>How do these judgments come into being? The disposable income? The high paying job which is a part and parcel of many pay commissions? The value attached to superior brands which has been given power by the buyers?</p><p>This is where Marxism and Socialism comes into play. These theories might have been a failure but one needs to be aware of the ideologies. Today, Marxism is an ideology which has to be applied to diverse situations and people. As long as the ideology is capitalist, people like Paresh would go to any lengths to avoid being seen in the vicinity of the so called aspiring middle-class people. And to challenge that, we need Captain Gopinaths around, forgetting that he might or might not be a socialist by ideology. </p>S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-64632508489267411302020-09-15T09:01:00.002+05:302020-09-15T09:01:31.892+05:30A poem for troubled times<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2gIuUZZ9OY0/X2A1NZd5rMI/AAAAAAAAFxM/o81npxFe9IkJ-MZbFTRHgThcXid_0yt-gCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/B1A6345D-A179-4D1A-BD52-09DC12C7FEB8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2gIuUZZ9OY0/X2A1NZd5rMI/AAAAAAAAFxM/o81npxFe9IkJ-MZbFTRHgThcXid_0yt-gCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/B1A6345D-A179-4D1A-BD52-09DC12C7FEB8.jpg" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>Today, as I reflect on the past days and more to come, there is a slight perturbation which stirs my thoughts. But I keep myself going and try motivating myself so that I don't despair. There are some days when my words are sufficient but on other days, there is always poetry.</p><p>Here is a poem that I have been going to when thoughts of fear assail:</p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;"><b>Everything Is Going To Be Alright, by Derek Mahon </b></span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;"><b>How should I not be glad to contemplate</b></span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;"><b>the clouds clearing beyond the dormer window</b></span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;"><b>and a high tide reflected on the ceiling?</b></span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;"><b>There will be dying, there will be dying,</b></span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;"><b>but there is no need to go into that.</b></span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;"><b>The poems flow from the hand unbidden</b></span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;"><b>and the hidden source is the watchful heart.</b></span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;"><b>The sun rises in spite of everything</b></span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;"><b>and the far cities are beautiful and bright.</b></span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;"><b>I lie here in a riot of sunlight</b></span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;"><b>watching the day break and the clouds flying.</b></span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;"><b>Everything Is Going To Be Alright</b></span></div></div></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hope this poem lightens your day and brings cheer to you in these grim times.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Take care and stafe (stay safe)</span></p>S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-33220646202986234702020-09-14T09:10:00.003+05:302020-09-14T18:57:57.331+05:30Walks to remember<p> Evening walks have become a part of my day for quite some time now. I like walking all by myself so that I could regulate my walk, stop sometimes to spot birds/flowers/butterflies/clouds and perhaps complete my phone calls. There are several people who I spot on a regular basis; Sometimes we nod, sometimes we smile or sometimes we look ahead without any action. The regular trail is quite comforting because I understand the contours of the road and small bumps here and there. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vC8VXI1oOEM/X17l7VZsNSI/AAAAAAAAFwE/_EmXaNruYk8pB_pNOkVw1hhE-zbd62k9ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2068.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vC8VXI1oOEM/X17l7VZsNSI/AAAAAAAAFwE/_EmXaNruYk8pB_pNOkVw1hhE-zbd62k9ACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_2068.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>There was a gentleman who I regularly used to see during my usual walks. He was short, dark complexioned, with a prominent paunch. His clothes fit snugly and his shoes were the sports kind in white colour. He never missed a day or rather I never missed seeing him whenever I used to walk. </p><p>Walking is a strange affair - we form connections with the path, the birds, the trees and the people who cross our paths. We may or may not talk to the people but they are part of the walking. Two days ago, we heard the news that the gentleman had passed away. He suffered acute breathlessness and passed away while being taken to the hospital. An immense sorrow clouded my mind and I regretted that I didn't smile or talk to him. He came from the same linguistic region as I. I could have at least uttered a hello or a nod. That I would never see him again while I went walking hit me hard. Strange affairs!</p><p>Feeling sorrowful for a relationship that was purely on a sight-basis is still sorrow. I hope his family finds comfort for they could not even give him a proper farewell. These and many more are the passive regrets that Covid-19 has brought about in our lives.</p><p>Rest in peace, sir. I will miss you on my walks.</p>S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-83008623731239136962020-06-29T11:26:00.001+05:302020-06-29T11:26:19.849+05:30An ode to Wikipedia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When we began our research, the first writing advice given by my supervisor then was that we should not quote/cite from <a href="https://www.wikipedia.org/">Wikipedia</a>. His reason was that since it was something where anyone could edit the content, the authenticity was questionable. That was impressed upon my mind and I gave the same advice to my students. I altered my stand a bit and told them that they could start off reading their basic information from Wikipedia and then follow it up with the references given on the same page towards the end. Of course they love their Wikipedia and the depth of information it offers and I cannot but accept that fact. Wikipedia is easy, basic and comprehensive and quite useful for a beginner who is seeking information on any topic. But the copyleft philosophy of the website is something that is quite impressive - free for all to edit, contribute and use.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uJj9dfKAmnE/XvmBBNH7AoI/AAAAAAAAFm0/tPJw3Nb7yYAvLExZI2vHoA3ys5TAMxndQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/wiki.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="214" data-original-width="235" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uJj9dfKAmnE/XvmBBNH7AoI/AAAAAAAAFm0/tPJw3Nb7yYAvLExZI2vHoA3ys5TAMxndQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/wiki.jpg" /></a></div>
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Piqued by curiosity on being a Wikipedia editor, I signed to become an editor and voila! the process was quite an easy one. I began editing content and then realised that one cannot be frivolous about the additions and deletions. Since the content is out there for everyone to read and cite, there is a greater responsibility associated with the same, I concurred.<br />
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But this present post is a dedication of love to Wikipedia for certain pet peeves of mine. Here it goes: In the recent years, say five years or so, the availability of films on various platforms has been mushrooming at a quicker pace and these have enabled people like me to access many films which were hitherto inaccessible. While I watch these films, mid-way I pause and quickly change the tab to Wikipedia and read the entire plot of the film. I know that this dampens the thrill of watching the plot unfold but not for me. I know the plot but like to watch how it has been handled by the director. And here, Wikipedia is something that succinctly provides the content for me - Not <a href="https://imdb.com/">IMDB</a> which is limited in content but good in rating; not the reviews which are mostly one-sided and not useful to know the storyline. But Wikipedia gives out the spoilers and the other sundry stuff which is quite interesting to read and is a separate thrill altogether.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xDDm-C28hNg/XvmBj6kIdrI/AAAAAAAAFm8/cyw9juzFlFwRXOtiJzW6JJyIDMoyrupwACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/wiki.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="221" data-original-width="228" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xDDm-C28hNg/XvmBj6kIdrI/AAAAAAAAFm8/cyw9juzFlFwRXOtiJzW6JJyIDMoyrupwACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/wiki.jpg" /></a></div>
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Well, so I am armed with the exact storyline possessing full knowledge of the killer, the twists and other giveaways and I watch the film - with the same intensity if I were watching without knowing the storyline. And , Wikipedia has always been my faithful ally except in some cases where the information furnished is short and just a peek into the plot.<br />
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Well, Wikipedia is definitely the go-to place for me when it comes to reading film's storylines and spoilers.<br />
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Raising a toast to the humble Wiki and here's to many more Spoiler Alerts!<br />
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All images are from Wikipedia - the copyleft website!</div>
S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-50905986659972528372020-05-07T23:41:00.000+05:302020-05-07T23:41:18.140+05:30Red Salute aka Lal Salaam<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">This post is part of the </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/thechennaibloggersclub/" style="font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Chennai Bloggers Club</a><span style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">'s CBC VIBGYOR BLOG TAG 2 where some of us will write a post on the colours of VIBGYOR each day starting 1st of May to the 7th of May, 2020.</span></span></i><br />
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><span style="color: red;"><br style="font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">The colour theme for today's post is RED. </span></span></i><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N26Pi37OQL4/XrRMaq-EyII/AAAAAAAAFi4/x90wKsjVD5AWYvm6BlzvogJI-SsVw7VBwCEwYBhgL/s1600/red-background-texture-full-frame-260nw-178555175.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="280" data-original-width="389" height="230" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N26Pi37OQL4/XrRMaq-EyII/AAAAAAAAFi4/x90wKsjVD5AWYvm6BlzvogJI-SsVw7VBwCEwYBhgL/s320/red-background-texture-full-frame-260nw-178555175.webp" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: red;">Red</span> brings to my mind, the Left and the pioneers who have led the movement upholding the rights of people, especially the marginalised and the voiceless (read as the ones being silenced!). It is but the vibrant red which has the place of being attached to a cause - that too a most pressing and vocal one that! The fiery attitude, the hot words, the bloody slogans - all worthy of the colour and the movement. Yes! I am talking about the Leftist movement also known as CPI and popular in the states of Bengal and Kerala.<br />
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I was introduced to this greetings <i><span style="color: red;">Lal Salaam</span></i> while in college. Many of the fellow Malayalees and Bengalis who were passionate about the country and equality, used to greet each other with a chirpy <i><span style="color: red;">Lal Salaam</span></i> and many of us who were slowly getting initiated into this whole history of Marxism and Leftist ideology were fascinated with the greeting. But then we weren't members of either of the states, hence we upheld our Dravidian greeting of Vanakkam which was a safe greeting devoid of any ideology or colour. Bland, apolitical and neutral yet a beautiful three-syllable greeting. I'm digressing here.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9YKT4foBfQ4/XrRMpq0xkmI/AAAAAAAAFi8/LZWQwMZIE_4M6WYpkwRJnh77tB8sC6BLQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/communistmanifesto1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="650" data-original-width="439" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9YKT4foBfQ4/XrRMpq0xkmI/AAAAAAAAFi8/LZWQwMZIE_4M6WYpkwRJnh77tB8sC6BLQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/communistmanifesto1.jpg" width="216" /></a></div>
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But when I say people from Kerala and Bengal, don't be mistaken that everyone is so. NO. Only a fraction of the citizens who passionately believe in the cause of the oppressed and the marginalised greeted so. Some people who didn't support the Communist party were also keen to the causes of the people and saw themselves as part of the ongoing struggle. It wasn't a fashion statement for it was loaded with energy, zeal, mission and urgency. You knew that if one uttered the words, they were aware that they were privileged by education, money and a certain standing in the society, yet knew that they were in the battle of the masses.<br />
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It has been proven that the red state of Kerala is in the forefront of the present day Covid-19 battle. With the plans, press meets and the immediate actions undertaken by the present government led by Shri. Pinarayi Vijayan, the state has been cohesive in bringing together many brains and ideas to redeem the situation. While naysayers and critics continue harping on the loopholes of the Red party, it is for everyone to see how Kerala has flattened the curve against the virus, having previous experience of tackling the Nipah virus which shook the state in 2018.<br />
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Red also denotes the struggles of the Dalits, transgenders, adivasis, and number of voiceless people/communities, where blood has been shed for mere survival in a democratic country. Red unites the people all over the world in spite of numerous internal factions and diverse mindsets.<br />
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<span style="color: red;">Red</span> says <span style="color: red;">STOP</span>. The red party also says <span style="color: red;">STOP</span> to the aforementioned struggles.<br />
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Stop closing your eyes.<br />
Stop pretending that you are the heir of privilege.<br />
Stop saying, "We don't need reservation."<br />
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<span style="color: red;"><i>Lal Salaam</i>.</span><br />
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Image courtesy: 1. Shutterstock 2. <a href="http://brainpickings.org/">Brainpickings.org</a><br />
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<span style="color: red;">Today marks the last day of the #CBCVIBGYORBLOGTAG2. <i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><span style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">Please do visit the blogs of </span><a href="https://kaushikgovind.wordpress.com/" style="font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Kaushik</a><span style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">, </span><a href="https://vada-poche.blogspot.com/" style="font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Clement</a>, <a href="https://kumsfromkovai.wordpress.com/" style="font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Kumutha</a><span style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"> and </span><a href="https://www.chennaikaaran.com/" style="font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Pratip</a><span style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"> who are also </span></i><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><span style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">participants of the #CBCVIBGYORBLOGTAG2.</span></i></span><br />
<br /></div>
S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-20398398150445324272020-05-06T23:22:00.001+05:302020-05-07T12:04:22.880+05:30Orange is the new . . . return to boredom<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">This post is part of the </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/thechennaibloggersclub/" style="font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Chennai Bloggers Club</a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">'s CBC VIBGYOR BLOG TAG 2 where some of us will write a post on the colours of VIBGYOR each day starting 1st of May to the 7th of May, 2020.</span><br style="font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">The colour theme for today's post is Orange. </span></span></i><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nVXjLr2zN2g/XrL3duI70MI/AAAAAAAAFio/ztU6PF7B42gsPrq7b9bB4A_eJ_9DQcbYwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Orangeisthenewblack-TvWeb-Entertainment-DKODING.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="422" data-original-width="750" height="180" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nVXjLr2zN2g/XrL3duI70MI/AAAAAAAAFio/ztU6PF7B42gsPrq7b9bB4A_eJ_9DQcbYwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Orangeisthenewblack-TvWeb-Entertainment-DKODING.jpg" width="320" /></a>The colour Orange invariably, of late, reminds me of the series, 'Orange is the new Black.' It was quite a hyped series which streams on Netflix. I saw a few seasons until I became quite bored of the episodes. Series appeal to me in the initial few seasons but after a certain point, I tend to give up. Netflix still reminds me to complete the series but I do not think that I would. It was for the same reason that I gave up on 'LOST,' another gripping series which kept me engaged for quite some time. And then dead people started reappearing in different timelines and I was thoroughly distracted, pausing now and then to view other tabs. But I must say that these series momentarily take your mind off certain aspects of life that you wish to temporarily forget.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K1WplFTIOKQ/XrL3ncScimI/AAAAAAAAFis/rGJTFlVdJ1oVETIn4TtwW6pH6ImWpVQsgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/LOST%2B10%2Byear.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="725" height="180" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K1WplFTIOKQ/XrL3ncScimI/AAAAAAAAFis/rGJTFlVdJ1oVETIn4TtwW6pH6ImWpVQsgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/LOST%2B10%2Byear.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
'LOST' was a case like that for me. I was undergoing some crazy situations which troubled and stole my peace of mind. 'LOST' found me and made me lose my pain - It was a drug that I willingly administered to myself without the guilt of time and work. I was on long leave and could indulge myself how much ever I had willed. But then things began getting better and 'LOST' became a slow drag that I started avoiding. Now even Netflix has taken it off air.<br />
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Coming back to 'Orange is the new Black,' it tells the story of a woman named Piper who goes to jail for possessing drugs and the series is about her experience in prison with diverse inmates who are both crazy and wild. It is easy to get caught in their travails and motions of life and for some time, I was a voyeur to their lives. Then slowly the episodes started getting the better of me. The same lesbian-drugs-power-politics-affairs-scandals and so on started doing the rounds and I gave up. I must say that I'm in great awe of everyone who has the will to complete the series that they start watching. I could complete only series with limited episodes such as 'Sex Education,' 'YOU,' 'Lust Stories' and 'Four More Shots Please.' I, of course did not much enjoy 'Four More . . .' nevertheless I completed it because it was short.<br />
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<i style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">Please do visit the blogs of </span><a href="https://kaushikgovind.wordpress.com/" style="color: #638a69; font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Kaushik</a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">, </span><a href="https://vada-poche.blogspot.com/" style="color: #638a69; font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Clement</a>, <a href="https://kumsfromkovai.wordpress.com/" style="color: #638a69; font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Kumutha</a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"> and </span><a href="https://www.chennaikaaran.com/" style="color: #638a69; font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Pratip</a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"> who are also</span><br style="font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">participants of the #CBCVIBGYORBLOGTAG2.</span></i></div>
S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-83281655145040713272020-05-05T23:22:00.003+05:302020-05-05T23:22:48.729+05:30Yeah they were all Yellow!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i><span jsname="YS01Ge">Look at the stars</span><br /><span jsname="YS01Ge">Look how they shine for you</span><br /><span jsname="YS01Ge">And everything you do</span><br /><span jsname="YS01Ge">Yeah they were all yellow</span></i></div>
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<i><span jsname="YS01Ge">I came along</span><br /><span jsname="YS01Ge">I wrote a song for you</span><br /><span jsname="YS01Ge">And all the things you do</span><br /><span jsname="YS01Ge">And it was called "Yellow" . . .</span></i></div>
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<span jsname="YS01Ge">(Coldplay "Yellow")</span></div>
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<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #a64d79;"><i style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">This post is part of the </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/thechennaibloggersclub/" style="font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Chennai Bloggers Club</a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">'s CBC VIBGYOR BLOG TAG 2 where some of us will write a post on the colours of VIBGYOR each day starting 1st of May to the 7th of May, 2020.</span><br style="font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">The colour theme for today's post is Yellow. </span></i></span></div>
Today was the second day that I went for a long walk in our beautiful campus. Some restrictions were imposed during the earlier weeks on the timings of the regular walks and the radius of distance and all that has been cleared. It was the same campus and same beautiful trees but my eyes lapped them up greedily heady with delight and happiness.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Golden showers scientifically known as Cassia fistula. A flower used for Vishu celebrations in Kerala, locally known as kanikonna</td></tr>
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I have always enjoyed my walking time - a time of solitude and campus-bathing with the trees, birds, river Zuari smoothly flowing and the chirpy voices of students and others playing. But today summer has bathed the campus with yellow - it was a golden delight to savour the <a href="http://www.susan-deborah.org/2015/03/sights-of-summer-indian.html">cassia</a>, <a href="http://www.susan-deborah.org/2015/03/sights-of-summer-3-copper-podsvaagai.html">copper pods</a>, frangipani and other beautiful flowering trees. These trees sway in the gentle breeze taunting me to capture them and save for posterity. I have lost count of the 'yellow' pictures that I have in my many folders and presently on my phone's gallery. How much we try to steal and save these sights - sometimes I never see them again but social media has given me a nice way of storing them and viewing them time to time.<br />
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While the campus is bathed in yellow, the sun also reminds me that it is summer time and alas! we aren't in London to exclaim, <a href="http://www.susan-deborah.org/2010/03/shall-i-compare-thee-to-summers-day.html">"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day"</a> for that would be the end of any romance. But strangely I also basked in the glory of the evening sun in spite of sweating and panting during the walk.<br />
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Yellow has seeped into my being and left me like the lyrics of the Coldplay song,<br />
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<i><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">So then I took my turn</span></i><br />
<i><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Oh what a thing to have done</span></i><br />
<i><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">And it was all yellow . . .</span></i><br />
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<i style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><span style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">Please do visit the blogs of </span><a href="https://kaushikgovind.wordpress.com/" style="color: #638a69; font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Kaushik</a><span style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">, </span><a href="https://vada-poche.blogspot.com/" style="color: #638a69; font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Clement</a>, <a href="https://kumsfromkovai.wordpress.com/" style="color: #638a69; font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Kumutha</a><span style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"> and </span><a href="https://www.chennaikaaran.com/" style="color: #638a69; font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Pratip</a><span style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"> who are also</span><br style="font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">participants of the #CBCVIBGYORBLOGTAG2.</span></i></div>
S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7205157387819958650.post-50766831932955481332020-05-04T22:13:00.000+05:302020-05-04T22:13:35.040+05:30Greening the conscious<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">This post is part of the </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/thechennaibloggersclub/" style="font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Chennai Bloggers Club</a><span style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">'s CBC VIBGYOR BLOG TAG 2 where some of us will write a post on the colours of VIBGYOR each day starting 1st of May to the 7th of May, 2020.</span><br style="font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">The colour theme for today's post is Green. </span></span></i><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 15.4px;">The colour Green is an oft abused colour when it comes to expressing the natural world around us. Anything environmental/eco-friendly is green. Conferences on ecology/environment have splashes of green all over and the staff members also proudly display their green coloured attires complemented by green coloured folders, pens and other paraphernalia. Of late, many news reports and conscious citizens have reduced the effects of the corona virus to mention that there is less pollution, the air is clearer, the mountains are visible and so on. Some exclaim, "The green world is happy!" While this realisation is dear, it is also a gross reduction of the whole environment that has improved in say one or two months. </span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A fern that I captured with my mobile camera while on a trip to Amboli, a hill station in South Maharashtra in August 2018<br />This is incidentally called an 'eco-hotspot'</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 15.4px;">One of my academic peers and ecocritic,<a href="https://www.stacyalaimo.com/"> Stacy Alaimo</a> writes on her Facebook wall,</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><i>"Just because people are hearing more birds, and cetaceans are hearing fewer ships, doesn't mean that the oceans are not full of plastic, the world isn't full of toxic chemicals and radiation, and countless species and habitats and ecosystems have already been destroyed. Those species will not magically return. . . ."</i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15.4px;">The same birds which have been there are singing everyday but given the condition of the quiet around, people are waking up to the same. Green has come to signify the earth and anything that concerns the earth but sadly it stops with just that. There is an 'eco' prefix in many activities be it a corporate company's CSR or a cosmetic product which often lures probable customers with the 'eco' prefix. Synonymous with the colour green and the prefix 'eco' are the words, 'organic,' 'natural,' 'bio, and so on. It's wonderful that many of us have become aware of the ongoing climate change and the rapid acceleration rate of habitats and ecosystems but how much could we contribute and take responsibility.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15.4px;">I leave you with the words of Alaimo,</span></span></span><br />
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<i><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif;">"</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;">The broken and horribly unjust systems will cause the most vulnerable to suffer and die during the pandemic. And struggles for social justice and environmentalism will most likely be even more daunting once things return to "normal," given that the crisis will be used as a reason for accelerated extractivism and social austerity."</span></i></div>
S. Susan Deborahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08885957854901839400noreply@blogger.com2