Hampi is arid. A dry, deciduous surreal landscape of strewn boulders. If the myths and local lore claim it to be the Kishkinda of the vanaras, I can see why. Massive rocks lie scattered as if a giant hand has abandoned a game of marbles halfway through. “Vali and Sugreeva used to play here with... Continue Reading →
"Adhalle Adhinde Oru Sheri" Roughly translated, it means "Isn't that the right of it?" A simple, elegant, if slightly cryptic Malayalam phrase that gently reminds us: no matter the situation, there is an inherent rightness—a quiet spirit of goodness—in doing the better thing. It goes beyond legal obligation or strict equality. It’s a soft acknowledgment... Continue Reading →
"I had spent many nights in the jungle looking for game, but this was the first time I had ever spent a night looking for a man-eater." - Jim Corbett, Man-Eaters of Kumaon I had picked up a gorgeous copy of Jim Corbett's Man-Eaters of Kumaon some months ago—one of those timeless Aleph Classics with... Continue Reading →
Every four years, I reactivate my invariably expired telly license to watch the FIFA extravaganza. I relive the glory days of watching matches on a single channel at ungodly hours. I used to be able to rattle off names like Salvatore Schillaci (as I write this, I have sadly learned that he has passed away),... Continue Reading →
To me, a full-grown Indian raintree can give meaning to a whole afternoon. "Broccoli tree" Mira calls it, for its mushrooming symmetrical appearance. During the rainy season, from under their massive canopies, the whole world transforms into a shady botanical womb. For some reason, I had the vague impression that these green giants were the... Continue Reading →
The pied bushchat watched me the whole time I watched it. It is a sedentary chat. We watched each other for the better part of a glorious evening. I generally do not go to my terrace, often spending my time on the leafy balcony outside my study. But today, the sky was perfectly grey, swollen... Continue Reading →
These days, whenever I write, I feel like Alex Murphy in RoboCop — rebuilt stronger and more efficient, yet quietly haunted by the fragments of my original self. As he says in a moment of painful clarity: “I can feel them… but I can’t remember them.” "This version keeps the critical tone while thoughtfully exploring... Continue Reading →
Last night I watched the movie Snow White and the Huntsman — an adult take on the fairy tale that I enjoyed far more than I expected. It had a peculiar effect on me. The film was shot partly in Scotland, Kent, and Wales, with generous helpings of CGI. I had braced myself for indifferent... Continue Reading →
Behind my house stands a magnificent guava tree. It is an old, generous giant with a wide, low, and impossibly thick canopy. When it fruits, it bears the sweetest pink-centered guavas I’ve ever tasted. My neighbor Murali, who lives directly behind us, has never shared my affection for it. The very day he moved in,... Continue Reading →
A few mornings ago in Mysore, I stepped out onto the porch, wincing from kidney stones. The Farm is usually my happy retreat — binoculars glued to my face, ridiculous grin in place. But that day, pain was winning. The previous afternoon, I had hobbled deep into the property, stick as a crutch, very aware... Continue Reading →
The Cricket Pages
I am taking notes
Life in Kana-text (er... CONtext)
Travelling with Fabulosity
Author
This is about my trips and adventures.
The Reluctant Book Worm 
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