She hated it whenever anyone used the word forever in their sentence. As if they really understood the word, or in the least if they really meant it. The word forever, she believed, had only one significance, and that was to make any assertion solemn. 'I am here with you' makes so little sense when... Continue Reading →
It was only when she roared did he first realise of the fury she contained within. Some people manage to hide their other selves for so long, and then surprise everyone around them when they finally reveal it. So calm had she been all the while they have had been together - a face that... Continue Reading →
He disheveled everything she had neatly stacked up. He was running late for the office, yet again, and now searched for his ID card everywhere except where it actually was. He upended his backpack emptying all its contents atop the bed on her side. This sight filled inside of her with rage, more than the... Continue Reading →
This is to all the readers who, at some point in time, end up losing their grip on life (and by life, I mean reading), and having lost their weapon then struggle to cope with the adversities in life. This is about how I regained my confidence in reading. But more importantly, this is a heartfelt gratitude towards a pre-eminent Indian philanthropist and writer - Mrs Sudha Murthy.
This is as much of a piece on Hope and Courage as it is on what the title suggests. But, I believe, that the only way to overcome anything is by moving towards something, a place, a person, or even a void if one firmly believes in it.
This piece was born when I was scared. There was darkness all around and everything seemed daunting.
He hated only three kinds of people on the road. Top on the list were those who brought their vehicles back to lives when it was still 10 seconds before the red light would go off and made them rumble. This rumbling of their vehicles irked him. They would then begin to honk, forcing people... Continue Reading →
This is sheer ranting and should be read as such. As much about the things I deem useful as about the things that yet don't make much sense to me. Perhaps writing about them will forge some perspective into me.
Manu Joseph's ‘The Illicit Happiness of Other People’ is at once a funny and a remarkable take on Indian milieu - one that could only be produced by the keenest of observers or by someone with the most cynical eye. Channelled observations and cynicism are, I am forced to believe, immensely rewarding. This book is... Continue Reading →