What is your idea about #relationshipgoals in one line?
" I think I'm falling. Please catch me", she said, remembering what she had told her God - her father, that morning.
Calling a place home comes easy to me. Most houses that I've stayed in, fortunately, have become home; so have many people, and they continue to be. But there is one image in particular that comes unbidden every time someone utters the word home……that of a seven year old running around in a mosaic floor (all Indian millennials will know the exact pattern I'm thinking of), darting from room to room, looking at the old TV, trying to scale the bookshelves. She appears to look around the house as if it holds answers to all the mysteries in the universe, as if she didn't experience the greatest loss of her life little less than a year ago in that very same house. I definitely came into my own person in college but I think I started to see it take shape in that house. Almost like an unfinished Monet painting, or one that was looked at too closely - as what looked like random paint blotches, waiting for an experienced observer to view it from a distance to get a perspective on the...
( I am a first year political science student in Delhi University. So if the graduates feel like this is not really right, please blame it on my inexperience as a political science student. Also, this post has been written keeping in mind a female perspective though many of it is applicable to all sexes) If you are a political science student you are most likely: - A civil service aspirant for sure. - A politician in the making?? - She/he didn't study maths in 12th (so obviously dumb), so can't take economics and doesn't have good memory to do history. - Knows only to debate and manipulate people and in reality just sits back, relaxes and doesn't actually learn anything. - Oh! She's a feminist. Now she wants to rule over the world. - It's just elections and parties, what is there to study as a full- blown course? And lastly,.... - I asked her why she took political science. She said she liked the discipline. ...
Last week, I gave a eulogy for my grandmother. I was in jitters the day before. It was unlike any speech I had done before. In my head, my word vomit in those 5 minutes would determine how she was remembered by the people who came for the funeral (at least the ones who did not know her that well). I had to verbalize a fitting legacy. But more importantly, in a childish sense, it would be the last time that I would get to talk to her - face to face - even though I knew that she couldn't possibly hear me. Following the funeral, it was little difficult for all of us to look at her things - her sarees, her airbed, towels......An absurd thought occurred to me then. What if she had a phone? More specifically, what if she had a phone number? If she had a number, then it would soon get deactivated; after a point of time, it would be reassigned. What would I have done then? Message her everyday, only to get a "sorry, wrong number", one morning in return? ...
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