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Life. Little less


She believes less is more. She believes it’s fine to be vulnerable especially in front of loved ones. Life is not a battle field. You need to drop your mask sometime somewhere in life. It’s suffocating to hold on to your mask 24×7. Everything in life need not be grand, opulent and come with a price tag. The dew drop on the grass is tiny but it evokes joy. There’s a beauty in grey hair, wrinkles, shrinking chest of your grand-father, father or mother. Toothless smiles can also warm hearts.

But we are living in strange times. This diverse, ancient, crazy, wonderful country suddenly seems to be caught in the whirlpool of aggressiveness, pulp-patriotism and a masculine desire to show to the world that we have arrived. In that neon-lit streets where dream machines zoom past, the space seems to be shrinking for the poor, homeless, the differently able or the old woman selling pea-nuts for a living. All the talks of 56 inch chhati (chest) just do not make any sense to them.

It’s difficult if you want your love to be like Urdu – textured, soft, elegant, rooted, beautifully wrapped in emotions and memories. The world around knows now only one language — Hinglish. Urban, crass, aggressive and conversations laced with who the f**k are you or even worse ‘tere ko pata hai mera dad kaun hai?’

It’s tough if you want your life to be a like a chikankari kurta. Patiently done needle work on a piece of white / pink/ lemon yellow cloth over days, may be months which in the end is also about memories of somebody’s hand in far away Uttar Pradesh weaving magic. May be there’s a song playing on the lips of the artisan as he/she is creating patterns on the soft cloth. But the world around now celebrates suits in monograms or swanky brands selling tote bags/ Little Black Dresses (LBDs) worth millions in sanitized, air-conditioned malls dotting the urban landscape. The brand strangely has become bigger than the person who’s wearing it. Somewhere the person has become less and the brand has become more. Of course there’s something called ‘likes’ in the Facebook. People are counting the ‘likes’ on their smartphones/ laptops/ tablets. Without the ‘likes’, neither the handbag nor the LBD looks alluring.

In the madness for to be there and to be seen, some have forgotten to just stand barefoot and look at the falling waves. Yes, there’s beauty in falling waves. Only if you can open your heart and embrace it.


About Deepika Sahu

I earn my living through writing stories, editing what other people write (in simple terms I am a journalist). I dream of opening a cafeteria in the mountains, owning a beach home on the shores of Bay of Bengal... but right now, they all seem like wild dreams.. A gypsy at heart --- am passionate about life, music, words, cooking for people I love, soaking in the lashing rain and just looking at the changing colours of the sky.... And I am a great fan of the Indian Railways and I long to travel in First Class AC coupe across India.....with my man

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