“The last time they met this early in a draw was their very first encounter back in 2004, in the third round of the Miami Masters, when a then-17-year-old upstart Rafael Nadal — sleeveless and self-assured — introduced his matador’s mentality to top-ranked Roger Federer.”
2008 is the only US election I was in America for. It was two months into my first semester at Vassar, a whirlwind of new – a new place, new friends, and an unfamiliar country. The sheer volume and novelty of all that was happening around me has turned the majority of those early days into a blur. But November 4, 2008 is a day I still remember distinctly.
Vassar, with its amazing open-mindedness and liberal mindset, was such a special place from which to witness the elections. I sat with a large group, first in the common room of my dorm and then in one of the larger open spaces on campus, fervently clustered around the big-screen television that had been set up for the event. A quietly tense atmosphere slowly led to audible sighs of relief as states turned blue, and finally, emphatic cheers as Obama was declared the president-elect. Celebrations continued late into the night and spilled into the next few days. more “Do we live in an echo chamber?”
Three days ago, on November 5, Andy Murray became the world number one in the most unobtrusive manner: a walkover in the semi-final of the Paris Masters after an injured Milos Raonic withdrew from the tournament. It was a subtle way in which to achieve the milestone, but perhaps fitting given his subtle tennis career in the era of Rafa, Roger, and Novak. more “There’s a new King in town”
Last weekend, I was enjoying a lazy, leisurely Sunday when I realised, with a jolt of surprise, the significance of the date. July 31st. After having kept a mental note of it for months, by the time it actually rolled around, it had caught me unawares. A quick glance at my phone told me it was 8:25pm, and I wondered if it was too late. A Google search for the number and phone call to Midland later, I was on my way to Aurobindo Market. more “The Harry Potter generation”
There’s a Facebook album that was doing the rounds – a compilation of social media posts of all the overtly racist statements people have either witnessed or experienced themselves in the UK after Brexit. I went through some of the extremely horrifying and heart-breaking pictures a few days back, and it got me thinking. The unfortunate reality is that while the public way in which people are now thinking it acceptable to tell other human beings to “go home, we voted for you to leave the country” was shocking, the sentiment itself is unsurprising. more “We’re all guilty of xenophobia”
After the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC) asked for 89 cuts in Udta Punjab, the Mumbai High Court told them to do their job (of certifying, not censoring). I wish someone had given the Manager of DT Cinemas Saket the same advice. more “My Udta Punjab moment”
Smriti Irani strikes me as someone prone to the dramatic – one to make sweeping statements, to gesticulate with gusto, to know how to get maximum impact out of her words. That’s the persona she exudes. Whether in popular Hindi soaps or Indian politics – not too far apart in the levels of tumult they embody – or perhaps because of that exact journey from soap opera star to politician, that’s sense I get from her.
Her recent Twitter battle with Bihar Education Minister Ashok Choudhary, which started with his tweet about the National Education Policy addressing ‘Dear @smritiirani ji’ and culminated with her objecting to the ‘dear’ and a Facebook post on feminism and women’s rights, reaffirmed my initial impression of her. Growing up in a staunchly anti-BJP household, my first response to anything BJP is disagreement or dismissal, and I almost allowed that to cloud my opinion of Smiri Irani’s latest. But then, I read her post, one that talks of the importance of holding your head up and speaking your mind as a woman. And I stopped to think about it for a second. more “Twitter tirades and gender equality”
As I enter day 13 of post wisdom tooth extraction pain with no signs of respite in sight, I figured it was time to stop complaining and look at the flip side. Or try, at least. Here are five unexpected benefits I’ve discovered through this saga, which has involved daily, or if I’m really lucky, once-in-two-day trips to the good ol’ dentist. I guess this is my attempt to look for the more humorous side of a far from pleasant situation, desperately seeking a silver lining behind the seat cushions of the waiting room I’ve grown to know so well, if you will. more “5 unexpected benefits of my wisdom tooth woes”
I was walking past the dining table in a hurry yesterday when the words printed on the shopping bag of a bookstore caught my eye: “you can’t buy happiness, but you can buy books. And that’s kind of the same thing”. It stopped me in my tracks momentarily, and I smiled as I read the words that were so simply yet well put, words that resonate perfectly with the way I feel about reading.
Books have been a constant presence in my life, from the age of 5 when my father started taking me on my weekly trips to the Gymkhana library. I would fight with him to stake claim on the maximum number of the limited books we could borrow on the library card for myself, and spend the next week devouring them, anxious to return to the library to borrow more. Growing up with that passion for reading, I have never been able to understand why so many people don’t read. I’ve always felt sorry for and a little baffled by them, that they are missing out on something amazing (not so differently from how I feel about vegetarians). I wonder – what do they do when they are waiting at a doctor’s office, or aboard a train, or sitting with a steaming cup of coffee on a sunny winter day? more “For the love of books”
As temperatures climb higher and higher, inching towards that dreaded 46 degrees, I’ve found no better way to beat the heat than to plunge into a swimming pool. Even if the pool in question is the Delhi Gymkhana Club’s sub-20 meter covered swimming pool, beloved home to frolicking children and the backstroke-fond elderly alike.
I’ve grown up swimming, thrown into that very pool when I was maybe 6 or 7 years old. I remember starting in the kiddie pool, swimming my ‘lengths’ very seriously with my mother dutifully cheering from the sidelines, before I finally graduated to the pool I swim in today. I initially learnt by watching the others around me. It was only much later that I enrolled in swim lessons to refine my stroke, delivered by Ashok Sir, Gymkhana Club’s lifeguard by day and swim coach by night (or rather, lifeguard by morning and swim coach by afternoon). Under his tutelage, where everyone at swim coaching was a ‘baby’ or a ‘baba’, my love for swimming grew. He inadvertently encouraged me into competitive swimming by pushing me to participate in Gymkhana’s annual swimming gala – an activity and interest that eventually morphed into my desire to join the school swim team. more “My swim journey”