The Umbrella

Mrinal Chatterjee

Window Seat

As the rainy season arrives, we remember the umbrella. Come to think of it, the umbrella is a simple object, yet it carries with it layers of meaning, memory, and metaphor. Designed to shield us from the sun or rain, it is at once utilitarian and symbolic—a silent companion that stands between us and the elements.

The first rains of the season always carry a sense of drama: the sky darkens, the wind howls, and down comes the torrents. In those moments, the act of opening an umbrella is both physical and poetic—a personal resistance against nature’s whims. The umbrella seems to bloom in my hand, a sudden flower of fabric and steel. Within a second the umbrella transforms into a sort of magical shield.

But the umbrella is not just a protector against rain. In blistering summers, it becomes a parasol, guarding us from the harshness of the sun. Across different cultures, umbrellas have signified status, elegance, and even divine power. In traditional Asian ceremonies, umbrellas are held above deities and royalty. In ancient civilizations, parasols were a symbol of prestige. Yet, in the hands of the common person today, the umbrella is democratic—used by students, workers, and farmers alike. It levels us all in our vulnerability to the skies above.

Over time, umbrellas wear out. The metal ribs bend, the cloth tears, and the handle may break. They become reluctant to open or wobble in the wind. Yet, people often hold onto them, perhaps because an umbrella accumulates personal history: the storm it weathered with us, the walk home from a first date, the journey through a flooded street. It becomes more than an object—it becomes a witness.

In an age of disposability and detachment, the humble umbrella endures as a tactile, practical, and poetic artifact. It may be replaced, but its presence is never out of place. It serves as a gentle reminder that life will rain on us, sometimes without warning, and we must carry with us a readiness to adapt, to shield, and to walk on—one step, one drop, one unfolding at a time.

Surendra gets Barton Award 2025 

(Surendra)

Surendra of The Hindu has been selected to receive the Barton Award for Excellence in Cartooning 2025, which is presented by Bengaluru based Indian Institute of Cartoonists (IIC).

The award will be presented to him on the occasion of the 18th anniversary of the Indian Cartoon Gallery on 2nd August 2025. An exhibition of his cartoons will also be organised at the Gallery, located off MG Road, Bengaluru at the same time.

Born in Kadapa, Andhra Pradesh in 1962, Surendra (real name, P.Surendranath Reddy) did his graduation in Science from SRR&CVR College in Vijayawada, where his father worked as a sub-editor in a Telugu weekly. A few visits to dad’s office did the real trick! Surendra came across some cartoons there and tried his hand with the critical inputs from his father. He chanced upon Mohan (1951-2017), one of the great cartoonists of Andhra Pradesh and got initial encouragement for his work.

Surendra moved to Hyderabad in 1983 and struggled hard to settle down in the profession. After working for Kammando, Adivaram, Balachandriaka, Andhra Bhoomi, Udayam, Hindi Milap, Citizen’s Evening and Andhra Prabha, Surendra transformed himself into a professional cartoonist. During his stint with Udayam (from 1992 to 95), he made a mark as a cartoonist. He joined The Hindu in 1996, (Kesava, his idol was already there) and worked there for 20 years and established himself as a leading cartoonist of the country.

Selfie

Taking a selfie has become almost a habit across the world, more so in India and Pakistan where it has taken a manic proportion. More people, mostly young men and women, die while taking selfies at places fraught with danger- near a deep gorge, in front of a moving train, etc in these two countries than any other.

Selfie-mania probably reflects a deeper shift in how we see ourselves and seek validation. What began as a fun way to capture moments has morphed into an obsession with curated perfection. The constant urge to pose, filter, and post often overshadows real experiences. We smile at cameras, not people. Likes become measures of worth, and fleeting approval replaces genuine connection. In a world obsessed with self-image, the authentic self, risks fading,

Incidentally 21 June was Selfie Day

Thankfully…

I woke up from a deep sleep in a panic thinking I was late for work.

Thankfully I was at work. .

(Courtesy: Social Media)