Weaving of Arachne

"Once upon a time there lived a king who had two queens. Dhruv was the son of the elder queen and rightful heir to the throne but Dhruv was despised by the younger queen. Since the king loved the younger queen more, she was allowed to continue with her cruel behaviour to Dhruv. One day while Dhruv was sitting on his father's lap, the younger queen asked him to get down. Little Dhruv was much pained by this and tears rolled down his eyes while the king remained a mute spectator. Little Dhruv was advised by his mother to take refuge in Lord Vishnu, as only God will provide him succour in his hard times. Little Dhruv ran to forest and meditated upon Vishnu's name as told by his mother. Finally, pleased with his dedication Vishnu granted him the boon that the brightest star of the night sky will henceforth be known as Dhruv Tara (star)." The three of us sat around grandma while she told us our bedtime story. Grandma had such a huge repertoire of stories; some nights

"Magic is integral to our life. When everything shall dissolve, only magic will linger on." As I race past the picturesque landscape of Kanchenjunga in a hired car, these words by my grandmother kept ringing in my ear. Looking out of the car windows, I thought maybe the mesmerizing beauty of the place has conjured up those long-forgotten pearly wisdom of my grandmother. However, the thought did not seem out of place among such beautiful scenes. As, such idyllic bucolic scenes are supposed to evoke ethereal thoughts similar to the one I am having now, rather than the mundane concerns of life such as the price of petrol, or maybe the rice of potato. Anyway, I was enjoying my seemingly poetic musings because to be honest, I don't have an artistic bend of mind. And to have such poetic thoughts lead me to belief that the natural beauty of this place has unleashed the poet in me. I really felt glad that I undertook this trip on the insistence of my sisters, who were really mor

 Today I read a short article about solitude in a woman's life. It gave me an altogether new perspective about privacy in women's life. Solitude is a privilege which few women can have access to in the patriarchal society. Women, despite being independent and self-sufficient, are denied their own places. Even in the so-called metropolitan cities of India no landlord is willing to rent out their apartments to single ladies, as if these ladies won't be paying their rents. Not only ladies but also other oppressed sections of society has to face similar discrimination when they want a space for themselves, but that's another story which we can discuss some other day. The society is anxious of women who are breaking away from the social structure and craving out a space for themselves, the society believes this would lead to a breakdown of the social order. Throughout the history, women have been made responsible for maintaining social order even though they have invariably

"Crazy' is a word which we throw around quiet casually."Are you crazy?", "This drives me crazy" are refrains that come to us quiet naturally. Crazy, mad, insane they have become an integrated part of our colloquial parlance. But have we ever thought what it is to be really crazy? I suppose none of us ever bother ourselves with such abstract thoughts like what it is to be to get stuck in one's mind, etc. Well, I have never thought about it. But recently I read a novel by John Green titled "Turtles All The Way Down". Plot wise it was not extra-ordinary, the story revolves around a high school girl, Aza Holmes and her life. But it is the portrayal of her character which stole all the limelight. Aza suffers from a mental condition called Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). She is obsessed with the fear of contacting microbial infection. Saying it in one line seizes away all the complexities from the issue. And this is the problem, language is