Off late, there is so much banter around the heat. This year, the summer has pushed us all to sweat it out without having to really sweat it out. After every such conversation, I think of the summers while I was growing up. I mean, we grew up in the Middle East so the “we know how hot it can get” sort of attitude does come across subtly! These seasons change the nitty-gritty of our everyday life in such a significant manner, though we don’t really notice most of it. The summer was harsh where we grew up – like so hot. We were privileged enough to not experience the brunt of it with the comfort of moving into air-conditioned facilities. However, some things screamed summer and made life difficult. Picture this: exposed pipes running through our house like fiery serpents, heating up the water as it made its way from tank to tap. It's like the water itself was trying to stage a rebellion against our attempts to stay cool. The time it stays in the pipeline, it just heated up all the m...
“They’ve said and written grand, wonderful things. I hope you get to read and hear all of them, because there’s something so special in that experience, in falling in love with words. Feeling them like fluttering butterflies beneath your skin. Like whirlwinds in your head. Like a punch to the gut.” ― Fredrik Backman, Things My Son Needs to Know About The World Words have always worked for me. Things I said. Things I wrote. And I got so used to it working for me. I took it for granted. Over the years, things that needed to be said and written kept growing. The words kept flowing at a much faster pace that my mind couldn’t keep up with. Flowing almost became forcing. I mostly found myself filled with bursting words and that became a consistent part of my existence. Some of it found a voice in this world to heal while some created rifts. Some of it resonated differently and some of it was disregarded. Certain words arrived too swiftly, leaving insufficient time for...