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…
A prayer for peace in paradise
On day two of our Kashmir trip, I got into an argument with our driver, Javaid. He said that we would start from Srinagar for Pahalgam the next day at 10 am. Now, both Subodh and I…
Savouring Kashmiri hospitality
We are sailing on a brightly painted shikara on Nigeen lake in Srinagar in Kashmir. We have unexpectedly landed in Srinagar on the day of Eid. Our plans were to travel further north, but those have been…
The apparent parent
I chose not to have children. So I have never had to go through the rigmarole of attending parent-teacher meetings (PTMs as they are called) and have no clue of what this entails. Until now. My niece,…
Axed to death
I have just returned from a walk on my terrace, where the realms of green and the chirps of the birds have soothed my mind. Just when the first gulp of hot beverage goes down my throat,…
Your idea of beauty is not mine
In the month of September, I returned to Sevagram and it was raining. I rode my scooter to work in the morning. Both sides of the road were lined by overgrown bougainvillea. In all possible shades of…
Drama at the departure gates
Airports are buzzing with stories. Scripts can be written and rewritten in minutes. The gates at T3 terminal in Delhi are so far from the security check that I should have been huffing and puffing by the…
Looking back at my fifty
I am wondering why everyone is making such a big deal about this birthday. After all birthdays come and go. I notice little oddities happening around me. Conversations stop abruptly when I enter. I can sniff something…
A donkey’s life
It feels like being whipped. And you are the donkey drawing the cart. The orders come at you fast and furious— like the searing pain inflicted by sharp lashes. And they draw blood. Working under people who…
