This Election May the Best Jumlebaaz Win!

Jumblebaazi:  The new method of rhetoric, best known for its characteristic pomposity, insincerity, hyperbolic ridicule, sarcastic expressions and distortion\invention of facts, used in recent Indian politics, that aims to indulge voters in a layered mockery or loop of false promises while maintaining a guise of informing and engaging in a sensible political discourse. 

 Let’s just say this is what political speeches and debates have been reduced to. From words that inspired freedom movements and reform, they have come down to taking digs at each other, instigating hostility and creating propogandas for popularity. #elections2019


The White Flower – R.K. Narayan

“It’s often said that God made man in His own image, it’s also true that man makes God in his own image.”

R.K. Narayan

This is such a tiny short story and pretty straight-forward. Therefore, being so it is really only about how Gods and celestial bodies thwart all possibilities of a boy getting married to the girl he seems to have fallen in love with, and that is just as far as the plot goes.                    But of course, there is much to be explored and I thought it would be better to do so in terms of pleasure and understanding – two cornerstones of any piece of literature that with their absence or presence reveal a lot about the text.

To put it plainly pleasure is entertainment, which The White Flower does offer. Foremostly, it is ripe with delightful simplicity that does not compromise on subtleties, be it language, narrative or characters. Another aspect that makes TWF entertaining is is its humor. Humor doesn’t lie in the situations but the way characters perceive them or seek to circumvent them. If anything the situations are ironical, that hope to reveal the degree to which one can get carried away, that is laced, again, with a tinge of  comedy, when it comes to romance, marriage and astrology – the themes of the text.

To Roland Barthes, texts, based on their pleasure quotient, are either “readerly” or “writerly”. Readerly is when a text does not require the reader to go beyond his “subjective position” : pleasurable and that’s all. Writerly means the texts challenge the reader to go beyond itself, its ideas, its convictions, its language, cultural codes, conventions, and understand the text from not the reader’s “subjective position” but the presupposed or emerging position of the text; and construct or derive understanding to evaluate the text’s value in its light.                                                                                                                         Let’s just say, pleasure is what would reel you in and understanding that would make you stay. So coming to understanding, while TWF does not really question the logic and purpose of astrology in Indian marriages, it shows the strength of its grip on Indians. It shows a people that has different approaches to the tradition or culture of astrology and how these conflict but how people would choose to go against their own convictions rather than put a strong opposition to astrology. If I were in Krishna’s place I, if given the power and driven by such an intense dismay, would want to burn all the horoscopes rather than “bleach all the flowers in the world.”

Since I am trying to use my degree in literature in a more productive manner than I did in the 3 years I studied the subject, I thought I would tackle one question about the text.

Justify the title “The White Flower”

The titles or peritexts of most literary texts often act like promises for what is to come. For instance, the book “Untouchable” written by Mulk Raj Anand, in its title itself brings to mind the context of the story, which is exploitation and oppression of the poorer/lower castes in India and the reader can expect what is to come. 

Similarly, the title “The White Flower” cannot be considered random and mute. The significance of the title can be examined from three points of views, i.e., the reader, the author and the text.

Authors are not unaware of the effect certain minute details can have on the reader’s mind. They manipulate these details to effectively drive through the themes of the text, their ideology and bring about a desired effect on the reader’s mind.

In TWF the reader is introduced to romantic elements of the text, which can become overpowering. The other themes might not seem as important. However, by emphasizing on an object, i.e, the white flower, which is directly connected to the theme of astrology, by making it the title of the text, the author makes the astrology theme a primary one whose successful portrayal becomes the purpose of the text. This emphasizing also serves the purpose of creating suspense in the reader’s mind as the significance of white flower in the plot emerges towards the end and the reader wonders about its role up until then.

The title, “TWF” doesn’t directly relate to the ideas in the text – the ideas of the astrology dipping to the point of superstition, idea of love or Indian marriages. It is not based on the main characters either. It can be said it is loosely connected to the main theme. But it is apparent that the title is more suggestive of the climax itself than anything else, where Krishna’s fate and happiness rests on an unwitting girls picking up something as random as a white flower. In a sense, the author tries to bring to our attention the irony of Krishna’s situation and also the underlying irony in the premise/context of the story by making its title equally ironical.

Nevertheless, no matter how trustless, decentralized and equivocal the title is, it manages to guide the plot in the reader’s mind by revealing a focal point and acting as a linchpin. Therefore, the title can be deemed appropriate as it is suggestive and relatable to the timbre of the story.



TRANSLATION (rough & not literal)

S: The story of love has rendered my heart dead
   The rights have become wrong
   And the abominable are validated - all in the name of love

K: The flower of love does come with a lot of thorns
   God would take it upon himself to relieve of their pain
   And grant the gardens of paradise

Would really appreciate if some one could give a better translation!

When you run out of ideas…

Hi there!

I did not run out of ideas exactly. Short stories are waiting to be written, articles are waiting to be concluded, poems are dying mid stanza and also all those people who have hired me are filling up my inbox with reminders. Lots to do.

But my brain said what better time to troll people on Omegle. And after an amusing one hour, my brain said, “Put it up on your blog.” I said, no. It said, content. And after an hour of contemplation, here I am… possibly going to embarass myself… you could be cringing non stop.

1. When they try too hard…When they try too hard

2. When you are trying too hard…


3. When they play along…


3. When they play along (2)…


Honourable mentions…

  1. The guy trying so hard to pass off as an exotic non-Indian…


  1. When I was not a female…


That’s all.


(Voxspace)The Succinct And Panaromic Review Of The BJP Led NDA Governance In Under 3 Minutes


If one had to determine how much the BJP NDA government is metaphorically alive or dead, it could be checking for the absence of signs of governance.


(Snapshots) pt2 – the Judge, his Wife and the Spade…

The loop of breath breaks

The soul found its peace

Idrees and Inayat stood facing each other. He was at the door holding a pistol to his temple.

“What do you do in the afternoon?” shrieked Idrees.

Inayat couldn’t say anything except “Babajaana…” with shock.

what…are you doing?

“What do you do behind my back?” he said through his tears and quivering gasps.

“Babajaana…” with desperation.

what do you want? Please

He asked his questions again, with increasing ferocity and confusion. His body began shaking. Inayat tried to make herself heard, ” Please come inside. Put it away please…”

He heard none of it. He kept repeating his questions like a broken record. “Tell me… what is wrong?” Inayat shouted. Idrees remembered asking the exact same question to his mother. His mind travelled to the past and Inayat, the pistol and everything vanished from before his eyes as he recalled her reply. “What is wrong!! Tell me how can you trust a woman who can easily go against the values taught to her? How can you be sure she won’t loose her morals and character for another man?” When he returned, a little amount of confusion cleared from Idrees’ mind and Inayat had come closer to him. She wanted to snatch the pistol, he read her mind.

He pushed her away. She fell. She stayed down and stared at the tiny, yellow flowers on the carpet. The pistol was a new variable, but all this was not too different. It should be…

“After all that I had to give up for you…”

After all this time…

“My mother knew it but I didn’t listen…”

I came to know soon but I listened to my heart…

“Those boys,” he sobbed, his hands moved around with more agitation as the allegations poured out of his mouth, “they said… said you… my daughter…”

So easy to believe them…

“I hate you.”

She looked up and saw the pistol pointing at her. She saw into his eyes. loved you.

He saw the hurt in her eyes and put the pistol back on his temple. He stood there crying unable to do anything. Coward…spineless

Inayat got up and walked upto Idrees, dragging the weight of his stony heart she couldn’t melt. She recounted every trangression he made against her love – finding faults when there were none, paternity tests, taking every chance to put her down, making her suffocate within her home

Another 16 years will easily go by…

When both Inayat and Idrees thought she was going to take away the pistol, she pulled the trigger. I am just tired.

Inayat stood before at the spade and mattock wondering which tool would help her dig a grave of their love. Ehlam and Ehtesham who saw everything, from the fight to the grave, were taught to forgive their father but they never knew how to forgive their mother.

Link for part 1 —













(SnapShots) pt 1 -The Judge, his Wife and the Spade

The judge, his wife and the spade…


It was sunny all day. Now, the clouds are gathering, for rain or for thunderstorm, it’s hard to tell. The weather is always erratic in this little town of Bhijori. Erratic and intense.

Idrees is standing in his outhouse, his glance and thoughts flicking between the clouds, the words of the neighbouring teenage boys, his backyard, his anger, the rusty spade and mattock before him. Decisions and feelings all muddled together.

He is sweaty, and stiff like a stone except for his right hand. He is rubbing his fingers against the palm, slowly and firmly. Absorbing the movement, concentrating on the rhythm, calming him a little, a plan emerging. His breath is less furious. The brewing silence muffled his thoughts, plan and rage. He tells himself he will take the decision in the moment as he does with his verdicts for complicated cases whose arguements and counter arguements overwhelm him. He is still, he is blank… he closed his eyes.

Inayat is waiting for Idrees to return from work, as she does everyday. She married him 16 years ago. She loved him. And as good wives do took care of his every need and wish. She made sure everything was to his liking.

She was watching over their 2 daughters, 14 year old Ehlam and 12 year old Ehtesham doing school work. He loved his family too, she was sure of it. So she didn’t take his incessant questioning about her daily activities to her heart. She forgave him when he scolded her or her daughters for talking to any male. She made sure she never interacted with a man. She asked her neighbour, Saba, to let the milk man drop her milk with her. She taught her daughters to forgive their father. She sent them to an all-girls school.

She looks at her cup of tea and wonders what if she hadn’t fallen in love with him. What if it was an arranged marriage. Would he be less doubtful of her character? Less suspicious? She would never cheat and she never understood why he worried about it so much. She imagined all the glasses that Idrees had broken over years, coming together, becoming whole.

The sound of heavy and hurried footfalls crushing gravel came to her. She saw her husband dash into the outhouse. She immediately put milk and water in a pot and plonked it on the stove. She heard the soft sounds of things shuffling and falling down. She had long ago made peace with the unpredictability and now saw patterns in it. This seemed like a bad case or an annoying collegue.

She heard for scuttling, imagining Idrees pacing the room and coming out for some tea in a minute or two.  But she heard silence. It chilled her. She hurriedly added tea and sugar. She called out the girls to go in their room.

Just as he listened to the first raindrop fall on the tin roof like a pebble, the words started to ring in his mind again.

Yeah, the daughter too. Anyone you want. Go to the house in the afternoon. 

The judge? He knows?

Hah! Ofcourse not. 

He grabs the pistol. Holds it tightly while he lets his thoughts rush to the front of his mind, making them distinct, letting them become a guiding force. He hates those boys. He hates his wife. His daughters… he says to himself, “The verdict is fair. This is justice”… and shuts the door to the outhouse behind him.

Link for pt 2 —



(Reblog)Crimes against Humanity and the Israel-Palestine Conflict — Born Outside the Box

Source: Global Research By Julian Rose May 29, 2018 For decades Palestinians have lived on the edge of annihilation, their homeland steadily annexed until just a slither of the original remains. It’s a story that just won’t go away, even for those thousands of miles away, who try to cover their ears and eyes from the shame […]

via Crimes against Humanity and the Israel-Palestine Conflict — Born Outside the Box

(VoxSpace Life) An Open Letter To The Good Person Out There

The theory of goodness is like a determined arrow going straight for the bull’s eye. However, practically, it is a very complicated story. Perhaps, a story of the constant struggle. So how is that a good person should survive in this world?



Follow the link–

(Voxspace)Book Review: The Ministry of Utmost Happiness

The Ministry of Utmost Happiness is dedicated “to the unconsoled”, but it is about the “unconsoled” and for the ignorant (both intentional and unintentional) and deluded. It shows us that we are as good as our reality, which fortunately or unfortunately, we create in our minds.

Follow the link: