LIFE AS IT IS

The morning breeze of late August feels a tad bit chilly. Not the kind of chilly that covers your skin with goose bumps, but the kind of chilly that makes you want to tilt your head back, close your eyes and let your cheeks, chin and neck feel the crisp air. The gentle wind that dances in your home on a sunny August morning is the harbinger of autumn, the season that turns green leaves to red, yellow, orange, brown and a multitude of other hues only seen in this vibrant season of the year. While I am not a fan of winter, I surely am a fan of fall. It is a delight to the eyes when you spot the trees in your neighborhood experience a change in color – they toss their green to accept Mother Nature’s gifts of Venetian red, crimson, ruby, peach, tangerine, amber and marigold. On a windy fall afternoon, if you ever peek through your window, you can hear the leaves gossip about the frosty days that would soon change everything in nature. And when they finally fall off to

There are not many moments as beautiful as waking up early when most of the world is still asleep. I tiptoe to the kitchen lest my footsteps would wake my husband and daughter. Then through my small kitchen window, I try to catch a glimpse of the world outside: the tall pines, maples and birches, the grey-roofed houses and the azure sky.  Every morning, the sky dons a new canvas - an endless canvas, I must add. On that endless canvas, a young child paints; he paints with oran ge, pink and yellow, haphazardly and on top of one another.  On days when he is grumpy, he smears the canvas with blotches of gray - on those days you know the sky will burst open and drench everything below!  During the summer months when the sun is up very early, the 6 o'clock sunshine glides through my kitchen window and floods the house. The yellow light falls on the cherry wood floor, the beige wall, the round dining table and the teal sofa. Tiny particles of dust dance in the air - a dusty

There are not many moments as beautiful as waking up early when most of the world is still asleep. I tiptoe to the kitchen lest my footsteps would wake my husband and daughter. Then through my small kitchen window, I try to catch a glimpse of the world outside: the tall pines, maples and birches, the grey-roofed houses and the azure sky.  Every morning, the sky dons a new canvas - an endless canvas, I must add. On that endless canvas, a young child paints; he paints with oran ge, pink and yellow, haphazardly and on top of one another.  On days he is grumpy, he smears the canvas with blotches of gray - on those days you know the sky will burst open and drench everything below!  During the summer months when the sun is up very early, the 6 o'clock sunshine glides through my kitchen window and floods the house. The yellow light falls on the cherry wood floor, the beige wall, the round dining table and the teal sofa. Tiny particles of dust dance in the air - a dusty dance

By the time a young gamer reaches his fifteenth birthday, he has already killed thousands of his so-called enemies. Even though he kills all of them virtually, he still feels the adrenaline flowing through his blood every time he makes a kill. His young brain derives pleasure from wiping people off the face of the earth, on a digital screen. When he fires his AK-47 or Colt CM901, his pupils dilate; his heart rate, breathing rate, and blood pressure increase every time he slays. And even though he slays people day after day, he is never punished for the brutality he commits. In fact, he is rewarded with points. He also moves to the next level of the game! The Daily Star link August 9, 2016 Video gaming is a multi-billion dollar industry. According to Newzoo, a global leader in games, e-sports and mobile intelligence, the worldwide revenue of the gaming industry is expected to reach 107 billion in 2017.  But children's access to violent video games is a debatable subject

I am not an unsocial woman, trust me, but my mental peace is important to me, so important that I can easily shun individuals who leave me sad and irate. I do not attend large, boisterous 'deshi' parties anymore. I carefully choose my company. My conclusion from three years of attending such parties is that most people arrange and attend these get-togethers to gossip about other people's failures and inadequacies, to flaunt their own culinary accomplishments, and to flash their new wardrobes, of course.  I have realised over time that I am a complete misfit at these 'deshi' parties. I do not fit into the stifling status quo - I am not a great cook, I wear very casual clothes, and I am not an expert gossipmonger.  Also, I enjoy talking about world politics, technology, climate change, and healthy eating more than I like to talk about divorce, infertility, break-ups, extramarital affairs, clothes, jewellery, and the latest Bollywood flicks.  If I am not a misf