एका पावसाळी संध्याकाळी दुर्ग रायगडावरून पाहिलेला हा अभूतपूर्व सूर्यास्त. सुरु करत आहोत अशाच फोटो आणि व्हिडिओंची मेजवानी. दर्या फिरस्ती. पहा, शेयर करा, डाउनलोड करा, सबस्क्राईब करा. मित्रांना व्हाट्सअप करा ... छत्रपती शिवाजी महाराज की जय
A few weeks back, I was at Jakhama in Nagaland, for a Sunday afternoon barbecue. These paddy fields below the campsite provided a near perfect view to put up my legs and sip some beer.
These are the same fields where the Japanese army along with Subhash Chandra Bose's INA camped before the Battle of Kohima against the Allied forces. In fact, Netaji's controversial 'last flight', took off from a runway close to this village!
//In which I address my saviour complex// When I first heard the story of Cinderella,
I didn't dream of living the life of a rags-to-riches princess
Nor did I dream of being a charismatic Prince Charming
But my curious little brain harboured an unlikely investment in Fairy Godmother-
I would marvel at her ability to make carriages out of pumpkins
And save the damsel in distress
Without wearing the ceremonial badge of honour.
And when I'd watch Harry Potter movies
My cousins would sit in awe whenever Harry or Hermoine would cast the most ingenious spells
But I would root for Dobby, the elf, the most-
When he'd appear out of nowhere to save his friend
So vehemently, as if his life depended on it.
I would gawk awestruck as his nibble hands would take on powerful enchantresses
Without fearing the inevitability of his own death.
This unlikely relatability to characters
Harbouring the desire to mend broken people
Slowly started to creep out of the fictionalised world of fairies and elves
And started playing out right in front of me.
At school, I was friends with only the nobodies of the class-
Foolishly thinking that my own inadequacy will make them feel whole.
And when the tough guys would narrate their sob-stories
I’d let my lanky arms engulf their broad shoulders
Not realising when my arms would be made to feel parts of their body
Which bore no relation to their soul.
When I’d come home with broken spectacle frames,
My dad would be surprised at the frequency with which his son picks fights
Not realizing that his lanky son was foolish enough to think that
His flimsy spectacles could endure the wrath of two warring sides
Which his son would try to pacify.
You see, for a long time
The only saving I ever needed
Was also the saving I never got.
So I internalized the hollowness inside me
And normalised giving parts of me away to intriguing, broken souls. (continued in the comments)