Leadership and the Art of Seeing
Under the microscope, the obvious often distracts. A flamboyant cluster of cells catches the eye first. Large, pleomorphic, demanding attention. The novice observer pauses there, convinced the diagnosis lies in the dramatic. But the seasoned pathologist knows…
A roadside rescue
I woke up bleary-eyed just after 4 am. Cold in a hotel room. I realized the beeps of my mobile had woken me up. It was a message from Indigo airlines. The first few words — “We…
Chhath: A prayer for society and a quiet act of resistance
Each year, as dawn breaks over the ghats of Bihar and eastern India, the riverbanks shimmer with the golden light of the rising sun, mirrored by thousands of diyas floating on the water’s surface. Men and women,…
The ache that stayed
There are relationships that fade gently, like twilight surrendering to dusk. And there are others that fracture — suddenly, irrevocably — leaving behind the echo of something once whole. What remains is not anger, but an ache…
Dr Anita Borges: The doyenne of Pathology education
The strains of music wafted in through the open windows. We were reporting in the Histopathology OPD of the Golden Jubilee Block in Tata Memorial Hospital. “What’s the name of that tune?” she asked. “It is so…
My Saree Stories: Part 21 (Paintings of India)
In my previous editions of my saree stories, I have written about the different embroideries from the different states of India which have been showcased on sarees. In this edition, I will share my forays into translating…
Flying high
Sometimes you know in a jiffy how much a person enjoys their work. When they speak of “soaring through the blue skies”, you know that they have been able to fly after a long struggle. Just by…
Life of Pi: The theatrical version at NMACC
When I first read Yann Martel’s Man Booker award winning novel, Life of Pi, I thought it was too obtuse and philosophical to be made into a movie. How would a talking Royal Bengal tiger named Richard Parker…
New Year-induced stress
Last night a Whatsapp forward reached me, which was a translation of Taslima Nasreen’s poem Madhyaraater phone. Although the context of the poem is completely different from what I am writing about, the first two lines of…
Ways we work
I see her walking on the pedestrian pathway. I’m in a taxi crawling through the cramped traffic. She is walking in the opposite direction. Her hair tied severely away from her face. It is her attire which…
