In Search of Holy Places
If I had dinner with the Presumptive President
You know how it is when the only thing on the table is bitter gourd? And you don’t eat gourd. And so you gulp it down with water, and then put on a false front, that lingering taste still in your mouth?
Well that’s how I feel about the president elect. I am without choice except to graciously accept that this is what’s on the table, and I’ll have to shove it down my throat the next 6 years. And yet, I am willing to hang around. Sit. Sometimes, it takes more than just a bite to have a taste for something.
Election Post Mortem: Multiple Parties, Personality and Patronage Politics
A race of five with shifting affiliations caused confusion; drove us mad; and now, no more than 30% of us got to station a new president. We are in dire need of a political system (or the lack of any system) reform. I am not sourgraping. But see, the will of the people shouldn’t be […]More
Photographs and Letters
Except that there are too many shots I miss. And I could only fit frames in seconds. And instead, moments drift. The dandelion passes swiftly. The bird flies away. The rows of flowering trees won’t tell me their secret in a shot.
And so I write these down instead. I write for me and for sharing a bit of the world that lives in me. Hoping that one day, I am bestowed the gift, lent the Genius, to capture moments in prose, in a thousand words. And that someone somewhere reads them. Without pictures.More