On weekends, I spend hours looking at the ac vent blowing ice cold air into the small room that I have rented. The only furniture that I have in the house is a bed. I have a red Afghan rug near the bed so that my feet touch something warm when I wake up. On... Continue Reading →
Unless I consciously sit upright, I tend to slouch in my seat. When in NYC, many times I walk to nearby bars for a late-night drink. Depending on how I feel I seek out a type of bar. I find a spot at the bar, heave myself onto the barstool, and keep fingering my drink... Continue Reading →
"Onnum sollaadheenga sir, ellaam nalladhukkudhaan" she said, leaning through my car window, her voice huskier than a woman's, her lilt more pronounced than a man's. As the light turned green, and I pulled out, stuffing my wallet into my pocket blindly with one hand, I was slightly irritated and glad. Irritated because I hadn't foreseen... Continue Reading →
Where I stay in Bangalore, the red dust envelopes everything. The roads are perversely bad, the sewers are open, shaggy dogs and pigs nuzzle in piles of dirt, and the sun beats down relentlessly on snarling traffic. In the mornings, when the sun hasn't yet reached its belligerence, I sometimes walk to the nearby petti... Continue Reading →
Kamala Das, during her Madhavikutty days, reminds me of the actress Jalaja. I think it is because they both remind me of childhood afternoons spent watching slow Malayalam movies on national television. Maybe, even then, I realized that I could understand a language that was not native to the Tamil land I inhabited, and that... Continue Reading →
Mira loves spotting cats. She is great at it. I am fairly observant too, but her eyes seem sharper and her ability to spot feline hiding spots seems highly tuned. She lets out a small yelp or a dramatic "caaatt" in a low voice when she spots one. Cats are evening routines though. Early mornings,... Continue Reading →
That Trivandrum makes Bangalore feel barbarously backward takes me by surprise every time I've been in Kerala. In Trivandrum, students and children happily chatter in smiling conversations as they walk along an orderly road, with perceptibly clean air with roads populated by humans with civic sense. Public amenities are equitable. Non-intimidating autorickshaws and extremely clean... Continue Reading →
I know of Library Walk in New York City because it starts from where I work. If you step out of the imposing Grand Central terminal, cross Pershing square and walk about twenty meters due south you will see, through the streets, the distinctive wide white facade of New York Public Library's Stephen A. Schwarzman... Continue Reading →
By the time, Mira, you have a conversation with me about politics, I would not know how I'd have changed from now. I would also not know how the world would have changed. Maybe it is these fears of the unknown that I want to forestall by writing this down now. I have seen how... Continue Reading →
A confused South African Indian musing about life.
my love affair with Russian literature
Pandora's Box for Art Lovers and Beauty Seekers
Lesfic Author
As I navigate through this life ...
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