Where the walk led us

A day when everyone was available needed to be spent at a place we all wanted to visit. When we set out from home, we decided to go to two places, but they were in opposite directions, so we agreed to visit just one. The metro ride felt short because we were busy talking. Since our destination was Hauz Khas Village, we got off at Hauz Khas Metro Station, and from there, the walk was quite long and unexpected. On the way, we saw flowers in many shades of pink, yellow, white, red and more. The different colours hidden among leaves of various shades of green brought us closer to nature. As we were walking, a puppy came running toward us, almost outrunning its master. After playing with it for a few minutes, it walked away, and we continued our journey.

As we walked farther, we saw a large board reading "Deer Park," so we decided to enter and explore. After entering, we walked straight ahead without looking for any signboards. There were deer all around resting. It was not something unique, as while in MCC seeing a family of deer every day was a routine, but the place still felt calm and peaceful, with birds chirping all around. Sunlight passed through the leaves and fell softly onto the ground, and one tree looked especially bright when the sunlight fell on it. We also came across a monument. From there, we began searching for the lake but could not find it, so we walked back toward the entrance and continued our walk to Hauz Khas Village. The path ahead had many shops, including music cafés with live performances, and the whole area felt lively with people, some with their families, some with friends, and others with their loved ones.

Further ahead, we entered a place and sat at the higher end, from where we could see the beautiful view of the lake. After the long walk, it was a much-needed rest and turned out to be the most relaxing seat of the day. The sunlight shimmered on the lake while ducks swam in a disciplined line and swans floated a little further ahead. The music from nearby cafés mixed with the birds chirping, creating a moment I wished could last forever. Eventually, we decided to pause that feeling and continue our search for the lake. We had to walk back to Deer Park, because when we asked people, they told us the lake was there and yes, we finally found it. Many people were jogging around the lake; for some, it was a regular spot, while for others it was a tourist attraction. The place remains the same, but the purpose differs.

On our way back, we decided to take a different route, walking along a long path lined with trees on both sides. We saw peacocks and other birds, and at one point, two roads diverged, which reminded me of "The Road Not Taken". 

The long walk ended with a flower garden filled with a variety of flowers, and our day out ended with a promise to plan another outing like this again. Thinking back on it now, I would surely love to visit again.

Beyond the Colours: A Different Shade of Holi

Today is Holi, a festival I have watched being celebrated since childhood. I have seen people joyfully play with colours, laughing with family members, and celebrating peacefully.

However, one incident from my childhood gave me a terrifying impression of Holi. At that time, I was living in a different place. One Holi morning, the entire street was empty except for a man cycling somewhere in a hurry. Suddenly, a few people surrounded him and started smearing him with grease in the name of celebration. It looked harsh and uncomfortable. As a child, I felt deeply disturbed watching that scene. That memory stayed with me and shaped my early fear of the festival.

But as I grew older, I also witnessed how beautifully Holi can be celebrated with vibrant colours, music, laughter, and togetherness. Movies and songs often portray Holi as a symbol of joy and unity, and when celebrated respectfully, it truly is. Of course, after all the fun, the toughest task begins: washing off the colours! Sometimes they linger for days, almost like a proud badge announcing, “Yes, I played Holi.”

My mother once told me that when she was growing up in South India, she barely knew about Holi. Today, however, even many South Indians celebrate it. When I was in Chennai, I was pleasantly surprised to see people enthusiastically preparing for Holi. What stood out to me was the thoughtful way it was organised. Those who wished to celebrate gathered in a common space, ensuring they didn’t inconvenience people who preferred not to participate. It reflected mutual respect and understanding of personal choice.

I also remember another unexpected moment. While walking down a street, I saw someone ahead of me suddenly get hit by a water balloon thrown from nowhere. It was surprising and surely painful. After looking around, I spotted a tiny head peeking from a balcony, ready with another balloon. I managed to dodge most of them, but one “lucky” balloon found its way to me. It stung for a second, but I couldn’t help smiling at the mischief behind it.

During my school days, Holi was usually a holiday. On the last school day before Holi, students would gently apply colour to each other’s faces, carefully avoiding uniforms. Everyone knew the real fear wasn’t the teachers, it was our mothers’ reaction to stained clothes!

For a long time, I knew how Holi was celebrated but not why. Curious, I explored different stories associated with it. The one I found most fascinating is about King Hiranyakashipu, who demanded that everyone worship only him. However, his son Prahlada remained devoted to Lord Vishnu. Enraged, the king ordered his sister Holika, who was believed to be immune to fire, to sit in a blazing fire with Prahlada on her lap. Ironically, Holika was burned to ashes, while Prahlada emerged unharmed.

Isn’t that story compelling? It carries a powerful message of goodness over arrogance and evil. Interestingly, this theme of good overcoming evil appears in many cultures and myths around the world. Which story do you find similar to this one? Share your thoughts.

Holi is not just the festival of colours; it has a long history of winning good over evil. This can be seen in their joy, love and shared happiness among people who gather together irrespective of their differences.

 PETALS AND PEACE

A simple walk after a long time feels incredibly peaceful. After days of constant busyness, a quiet moment surrounded by nature brings a deep sense of calm. It is often the unexpected discoveries along the way that turn an ordinary day into something special. Having someone beside you to share random conversations makes those little discoveries even more meaningful.

As we were chatting casually, we noticed a tiny flower bud blooming with delicate white and pink petals. When we moved closer, we realised it was a rose plant. The bush was tucked quietly between other plants, almost as if it didn’t want to be noticed. A fully bloomed rose was hidden among the leaves, playing a gentle game of hide-and-seek, like a subtle welcome to spring. A few more buds were waiting to blossom, looking far more beautiful on the plant than they ever would if plucked. Their beauty rested safely among sharp thorns, protecting them from careless hands.

After a while, we continued our walk when a soft breeze drifted past us, carrying a sweet fragrance that lingered in the air. It smelled like jasmine, rich and soothing, and it made us pause without even realising it. We looked around, searching for a jasmine plant, but there was none in sight. As we looked more carefully, we discovered small, delicate flowers blooming on a lemon tree. I had never known that lemon blossoms could carry a fragrance so similar to jasmine. We stood near the tree for quite some time, simply breathing in the scent.

The contrast between the lemon leaves and lemon blossoms was surprising yet beautiful. What began as a short walk turned into a journey filled with gentle scents and quiet wonders. There are always small details we overlook in our daily rush; sometimes it only takes a fragrance, a breeze, or a moment of stillness to bring our attention back to them.

Stories found on the way to stories

                                                                         - Beera

Books are places where we learn so much. We often spend a great deal of time reading, but nowadays it is usually on our mobile phones. As I was travelling on the metro today, I noticed that most young people were absorbed in their phones. Many were listening to music or watching videos, while a few preferred the silence and calm before the chaos of working hours began.

A busy life can be exhausting. In the evenings, while travelling on the same metro, you can see people dozing off even while standing in the crowded compartment. Although the mode of transport remains the same, the atmosphere feels completely different in the morning and in the evening.

After this short journey of observation, we reached the venue for a book release. We were the first to arrive. I had gone there simply as a member of the audience, but unexpectedly I was given a tag and entrusted with responsibilities, including welcoming guests and assisting at the book stall.

It was a beautiful day, a shining moment for the many people who had worked tirelessly behind the scenes. When we buy a book, we usually notice only the title and the author. We often forget about the numerous individuals who contribute to bringing that book to life. It is not intentional; it is simply how things tend to be.

Watching several people stand on stage and share their experiences and journeys in completing the book was inspiring. As the event came to an end, hunger finally made itself known. Until then, everyone had been completely engaged in the program. Soon, people moved towards the dining area, where fellowship and lively conversations followed.

Meeting new people, reconnecting with others, and promising to meet again was how the day concluded. A room filled with excitement, delicious food, and meaningful conversations did not feel tiring at all. It had been a long time since such a gathering took place, and even now, the anticipation for the next book event remains.

Pre-Victorian elements in
 Rabbi Ben Ezra by Robert Browning

“Rabbi Ben Ezra” (1864) by Robert Browning reflects philosophical and literary ideas that were common long before the Victorian age. Although the poem was written during the Victorian period, its themes and approach feel closer to earlier traditions. In this blog, I explore the pre-Victorian elements in Rabbi Ben Ezra and how Browning uses them to express his ideas about the relationship between God and the individual.

The poem can be considered pre-Victorian in spirit because it focuses less on social issues and more on personal reflection. One of its strongest themes is ageing and mortality. Instead of fearing old age or death, Browning presents them as meaningful stages of life. The speaker accepts growing older with calmness and even hope, believing that life’s later years bring spiritual growth and a deeper connection with God. This positive view of ageing reflects earlier philosophical beliefs that saw life as a gradual preparation for the soul’s union with the divine.

Religion plays an important role in the poem, especially through biblical references and spiritual imagery. Browning uses these elements to explore how human life fits into God’s larger plan. The poem suggests that struggles, failures, and unanswered questions are not meaningless but are part of a purposeful journey. Through this idea, Browning highlights the complex relationship between God and humanity.

What makes Rabbi Ben Ezra especially reflective of pre-Victorian sensibilities is its focus on the individual's inner life. The speaker openly confronts fears, doubts, and uncertainties, making the poem deeply personal and introspective. Rather than following social conventions or moral expectations, the poem concentrates on understanding life’s purpose from a spiritual and philosophical point of view.

Overall, the pre-Victorian elements in Rabbi Ben Ezra give the poem a unique character. While Victorian literature often emphasised social reform, morality, and sentiment, Browning’s poem looks inward, celebrating personal growth, faith, and the lifelong search for meaning. This blend of philosophy and reflection is what makes Rabbi Ben Ezra both thoughtful and timeless.

When the Sun Took a Day Off

After a week of bright, sunny days and yesterday’s heat that almost made us feel as if summer was on its way, everything changed this morning. Dark clouds roamed across the sky, and strong winds blew relentlessly. The moment I stepped outside, I felt a sudden shiver run through me. Soon after, a light drizzle began, as though the weather had been waiting for the perfect moment to surprise us.

As I walked along the road, I noticed that most people were not using umbrellas. Walking with my bright blue umbrella made me feel strange and a little out of place. There were moments when I thought of folding it and keeping it in my bag, but the cold raindrops changed my mind. I was afraid of falling sick, which would be especially unpleasant during winter.

Everyone seemed to be waiting for the sky to clear. Usually, after around 9 a.m., the sun slowly peeps out and warms the day. In rooms where artificial lights are normally unnecessary, sunlight provides all the brightness needed. Today, however, since the sun seemed to be on leave, the bulbs had to take over and use their own energy. Even though the sun refused to appear, the sky gradually became brighter. The rain stopped, but the roads were filled with puddles, reflecting the grey sky above.

The park was wet and muddy, so children could not play outside, which was surely disappointing for them. The day felt unusual, neither completely gloomy nor cheerful, caught somewhere between winter’s chill and the promise of warmer days. It was a gentle reminder that nature often changes its mood without warning.

Winter's slow awakening

Saturday morning usually makes one feel extremely lazy. But today, even the weather looks gloomier than an upset child. A chilly and harsh morning is generally followed by a bright, sunny afternoon to balance the day. However, today, a thick layer of fog spread across the sky, and the barely visible roads made the situation much worse. It felt as though the weather was waiting for schools to reopen, only to become colder. The roads were invisible as layers of cloud descended to the ground. Clouds are not only seen from flights; they are clearly visible on Delhi roads during winter.

The only visible lights came from the headlights of vehicles desperately rushing to their workplaces. It was troublesome wearing too many clothes, which felt suffocating, while wearing too few could make one sick. Covering the hands and face was necessary, or they would turn numb. Just five minutes away from home, my legs seemed to stop working, making it difficult to move forward. My eyes burned, my nose turned red, and my palms froze. The cold was far from pleasant, as warming up became essential. Even with shoes and socks on, my toes remained icy, causing pain.

Winters may be beautiful, but they can also be painful. This might be the reason why many poets associate winter with sorrow. Waiting for the sun to rise in such cold weather surely brings hope. People stand in the sunlight to absorb warmth, a sight quite different from summer, when everyone tries to hide from the heat. As noon approached, the sun peeked out from its hiding place, offering slight relief on this chilly day. Thus, the day moved on, marked by the contrast between the freezing morning and the warmth of the afternoon.