A Mélange of memoirs, fiction, short stories, verses, book reviews and uncorked angst.
(Click here for Part II) The way Kanika was averting her eyes from me had a fishiness about it, hinting at some link between her and the ruffian she had met on the platform. Not willing to mire an entire day with the bitterness of a possibly freak incident, I brushed away my doubts and […]
(Click here for Part I) It is a bit unusual for rains to strike Mumbai in the beginning of November but what surprised me more was the rumbling of clouds. I wasn’t sure when I had dozed off yesterday in a mostly sleepless night only to be woken up by what I had thought was […]
As I lie here on the dewan pushed against the window, gazing absently into the impossibly yellow canopy of the Amaltas tree, my thoughts race back once more to the field of mustard I visited on a mellow winter afternoon, many years ago. At the time, the cocoon of boyhood had withered and fallen off […]
Himesh is fussy about the order in which ingredients should be put into vegetable rice. Butter, followed by equal amount of mustard oil, cumin seeds, chopped chillies and onions, crushed ginger and garlic, minced mint and coriander leaves, a handful of shelled peas and diced tomatoes, soaked rice and the jazz. It is a weekly […]
My student life ended abruptly, or shall I say, comic-apocalyptically, with the postmodernist classic by Joseph Heller, Catch-22. It happened when I wrote a chapter for my doctoral thesis that would soon be abandoned, on the anti-war anti-novel with an anti-hero gripped by existential absurdism. What I posited in the chapter was Joseph Heller had […]
*The beginning It was half past six in the morning as I trod the bridge over the moat to the looming entrance. My heart matched the pitter-patter of my hastening steps. Unlike the stolid façade I had come upon in my midday visits, the fort stood brooding in the soft morning light. A group of […]
I swear I will tell you each word of the story as he had whispered in my ears. I first met him at Sadar Bazar in Agra. I had just purchased a paperback called Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha and was sipping a cup of tea at a footpath stall. There was little of note […]
