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SAGE Magazine Summer Blog: Sonali Bhasin in New York
At 3 am on Sunday morning, while waiting for the 2 train to make an appearance at a crowded platform in Brooklyn, I sat down next to a group of noisy young tourists my age. Head down, music plugged in, I focused on drowning out the noise around me when yet another garbled announcement about schedule changes played overhead. I looked up, around, and – to my surprise – straight into the friendly smile of one the tourists sitting next to me, with his hand outstretched in a high five.
Rethinking Restoration Ecology
In 1970’s Chicago, restorationists began to restore the tallgrass prairie that once covered a large portion of Illinois before the land was settled. As the prairie was farmed by settlers, the grazing animals and prairie fires that once kept the savannah landscape open became rarer. The prairie was taken over by invasive grasses, the native oak trees surrounded by buckthorns, box elders and Siberian elms. Two hundred years later, Steve Packard, who pioneered the restoration movement did so because he believed we had “almost lost one of the richest landscapes on the continent” (Packard, 1988).
An Ode to a Farm and Food Hub Conference in Hudson Valley
As the room murmurs over locally-sourced lunch and farm fresh produce
I'm fired up by overheard conversations
"Soil is your foundation"
"We finished the last of our preserves just as
fresh strawberries appeared at our local farmstand"
Personal Writing on Urban Life
On Choosing Shoes
Choosing the right shoes is important. Because it’s hot, it’s always hot. But it’s also dusty and wet and if my sandals are too flat then the ankles of my salwar get dirty, and I feel guilty for not hemming them like I was supposed to. But it’s hot, so I choose my kolhapuri sandals anyway. Later, my boyfriend will complain about my dirty feet but it’s worth it just to feel my toes breathe.
Sarojini Nagar
Sarojini Nagar is a quiet neighbourhood in South Delhi. At its heart is a large, open-air export-reject market that draws women from all over the city. It is large, chaotic and gloriously illegal, and one of the most democratic parts of the city. It is also one of the few places in New Delhi that has more women than men walking the streets.
Real and Constructed Nature
When I was 7, we spent a week in Paris. Our hotel room was at the top of a rickety flight of stairs, all dark wood and simple furniture. There was a sloping roof with a skylight that was low enough for me to reach. Throwing it open when we first entered, I looked out and over hundreds of busy rooftops in the slanted evening light. I drew a breath and inhaled the smell of hundreds of dinners: caramelized onions, simmering butter, roasting garlic and velvety mushrooms.
The Movement of Time
It was the last night of summer. I celebrated by jumping into a lake with fourteen friends at midnight. Our shrieks echoed across the water, to the houses on the other side of the lake. The light from their windows provided our only illumination as we stumbled down the steps on to the pier. Throwing off their clothes, their bodies pale in the light, my friends throw each other in, some clinging to the dock, others sprinting past me.
SAGE Magazine Summer Blog: Sonali Bhasin in New York
At 3 am on Sunday morning, while waiting for the 2 train to make an appearance at a crowded platform in Brooklyn, I sat down next to a group of noisy young tourists my age. Head down, music plugged in, I focused on drowning out the noise around me when yet another garbled announcement about schedule changes played overhead. I looked up, around, and – to my surprise – straight into the friendly smile of one the tourists sitting next to me, with his hand outstretched in a high five.
Rethinking Restoration Ecology
In 1970’s Chicago, restorationists began to restore the tallgrass prairie that once covered a large portion of Illinois before the land was settled. As the prairie was farmed by settlers, the grazing animals and prairie fires that once kept the savannah landscape open became rarer. The prairie was taken over by invasive grasses, the native oak trees surrounded by buckthorns, box elders and Siberian elms. Two hundred years later, Steve Packard, who pioneered the restoration movement did so because he believed we had “almost lost one of the richest landscapes on the continent” (Packard, 1988).
An Ode to a Farm and Food Hub Conference in Hudson Valley
As the room murmurs over locally-sourced lunch and farm fresh produce
I'm fired up by overheard conversations
"Soil is your foundation"
"We finished the last of our preserves just as
fresh strawberries appeared at our local farmstand"
Personal Writing on Urban Life
On Choosing Shoes
Choosing the right shoes is important. Because it’s hot, it’s always hot. But it’s also dusty and wet and if my sandals are too flat then the ankles of my salwar get dirty, and I feel guilty for not hemming them like I was supposed to. But it’s hot, so I choose my kolhapuri sandals anyway. Later, my boyfriend will complain about my dirty feet but it’s worth it just to feel my toes breathe.
Sarojini Nagar
Sarojini Nagar is a quiet neighbourhood in South Delhi. At its heart is a large, open-air export-reject market that draws women from all over the city. It is large, chaotic and gloriously illegal, and one of the most democratic parts of the city. It is also one of the few places in New Delhi that has more women than men walking the streets.
Real and Constructed Nature
When I was 7, we spent a week in Paris. Our hotel room was at the top of a rickety flight of stairs, all dark wood and simple furniture. There was a sloping roof with a skylight that was low enough for me to reach. Throwing it open when we first entered, I looked out and over hundreds of busy rooftops in the slanted evening light. I drew a breath and inhaled the smell of hundreds of dinners: caramelized onions, simmering butter, roasting garlic and velvety mushrooms.
The Movement of Time
It was the last night of summer. I celebrated by jumping into a lake with fourteen friends at midnight. Our shrieks echoed across the water, to the houses on the other side of the lake. The light from their windows provided our only illumination as we stumbled down the steps on to the pier. Throwing off their clothes, their bodies pale in the light, my friends throw each other in, some clinging to the dock, others sprinting past me.