Recently a friend of mine, who is in her early thirties, was asked by a teenager: “so, did you have an iPad while growing up?” while a little taken aback by this question, my friend scrambled for a suitable response; then responded: “no, I grew up with stories”! While she was recounting this incident to me, her face glowed with the memory of the stories she grew up with and how this event in a way, brought them back to her life. As I sat and listened to this, I remembered stories that I remember growing up with. Stories from Bengali folk tale and folk lore – the earliest one told to me by my maternal grandmother – an essential ploy she used to keep me sleeping next to her in the afternoons.
my stories
Searching for faith
The other day I was having a chat with my partner about a dream in which he and a long dead prominent political figure were having a discussion about the future of socialism and capitalism in India and how the political figure felt quite agitated about the current condition of Indian political scenario, etc. As the content of the dream was quite interesting, we started discussing the idea of politics and its linkages to mass organised religion. While on this, the threads turned from the dream to our respective political and ideological leanings, beliefs, likes and dislikes and pet peeves and opinions, etc., and as it happens we ended up having a rather heated conversation around all of those threads. The conversation left me quite pensive about the some of the difficulties that I face when I come face to face to with “in your face” expression of what one can call religiosity or spirituality. As I looked back in
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