Glass Half Untouched

  This article is neither about the god nor about the literal meaning of the god complex. The god complex that I want to talk about today can be understood through the concept of the pedestal (the base or support on which a statue, obelisk, or column is mounted, as per Oxford Languages) on which the god is kept.  Pedestal What I have observed so far about the relationship between the god and a devotee is that it consists of majorly two components – offering your faith and seeking power or strength from the god or from the faith that you offer to god. You can offer your faith or seek strength in whatever shape or form, of course. One cannot deny the power dynamic there. Two distinct levels where the god always stands tall. And funnily, even though the question often arises - whether the god exists, nobody, for a second, questions the existence of the pedestal on which the god exists. This pedestal is built with our faith and expectations. And you know what I am talking ...

I am standing in the middle of the street in water. Not a puddle of water. Seemingly unending spread of water covering the land as far as I can see. It is moving. It is rising. I don't know where it came from. I don't think it was there a moment ago. Or was it? I can't be sure. Everything looks grim and gray. Not the black and white gray but gray of uncertainty and chaos.  Everything is out of order. People are running in all directions. Seemingly trying to save themselves. And I wonder if this is how the end looks like.  It is barely drizzling now but every droplet comes with a promise. It comes even if it knows it isn't welcome. There is already plenty of it; on our streets, in our homes, in our eyes. There is nothing we call ours that could welcome these droplets. Yet the droplets come with an unwelcome insistence to take over and I feel numb all over. I know I have to join the chaos around me soon. I will have to run in some direction to get somewhere where I will f...

Somewhere around 15 years ago… It was a lazy evening. Baba and I were half-lying, half-sitting on the sofa watching old Hindi songs. Because of my parents, I have always had a special fondness for old Hindi songs. As we sat there watching one of those black and white melodies, out of nowhere Baba said-  there is something about these black and white movies. Color movies are not just the same. Too many colors on the screen are confusing. Sometimes overwhelming.  For my under construction mind back then (I was only in 6th standard), it was too much to grasp. The fault was not really mine. Baba was being quite absurd. Baba grew up watching color movies. If my grandfather had said something like that, I could have understood. Blaming it on his age would have been easy. But what about Baba? I remember I had asked-  what do you mean by that. Baba, still lost in his thoughts, tried explaining but no luck. Finally, he had settled for-  leave it. I can't exp...

Disclaimer: Heavily influenced by Avengers: Age of Ultron yet hopefully relatable to everyone.  I just finished watching Avengers: Age of Ultron. Make no mistake. It wasn't the first time that I watched the movie. I have watched it enough number of times to look beyond the glorified characters and brilliantly choreographed action sequences this time. And because I have watched it enough number of times, watching it today, amidst lockdown with Covid-19 threatening my world, made my mind wander from the bewitchment of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.  Well, I can't give all the credit to Marvel. Today, my day started with a discussion with my parents about how there are conflicting views about the lockdown. Because it definitely came at a cost. Then somewhere in the middle of the day, my wonderful friend texted reminding me that today is the one-year anniversary of Avengers: Endgame. We ended up discussing who would have thought that one year later our world would be at ...

(February 2017) I wasn't a complete stranger to Mumbai when I moved here two weeks back. On the contrary, it's where I was born. After spending 23 years of my life in Pune, I moved to my uncle’s house in Mumbai for an internship. I didn’t read too much into it until my little cousin asked me the other day, “which city do you like more – Pune or Mumbai?” My answer should have been Pune, undoubtedly, but I said, “it’s too soon to tell. I have spent 23 years of my life in Pune and just two weeks in Mumbai. It's not fair to compare my connection with both the cities.” Though I seemed to have dodged the question, it got me thinking. Being brought up in Pune, I am fond of the peace and serenity that place offers. Its charm, its calmness, and moderately lazy but culturally rich and tasteful lifestyle is part of me now. Yet there has always been this inexplicable attraction towards Mumbai. My family had decided to shift to Pune before I turned 1. So, till tw...