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Dear Father of the Nation 26 Aug 2013 | 01:35 am
“Leave India in God’s hands, in modem parlance, to anarchy; and that anarchy may lead to internecine warfare for a time, or to unrestricted dacoities. From these a true India will arise in place of th...
A Sliver of Platinum 28 Jul 2013 | 03:15 pm
Dispel the crowds from the pathways, Fakir, I am just dozing in the dust, not dying. ~Sudarshan Fakir I guess it is a pale shadow of the original. I have always had this problem with translations. Bu...
Breeze on the Grass 30 May 2013 | 11:52 pm
“The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamouring to become visible.” ~Vladimir Nabakov My dear readers, we have been toge...
A Far Cry from Mr Darcy 23 May 2013 | 11:49 pm
The concluding part of ‘Tell Me, Cleopatra!‘ As I stood stiff under a jet stream of water, the set of four faces kept throbbing in my head, they all saying something to my eyes squeezed shut. Hemant, ...
A Polar Bear Remembers 19 May 2013 | 10:37 pm
‘There is nothing new under the sun. It has all been done before.’ ~ A Study in Scarlet Read the preceding part ‘The Man from Baker Street‘ here. The story begins here in ‘Tell Me, Cleopatra!‘ ‘Yes, I...
The Man from Baker Street 17 May 2013 | 08:19 am
(The story begins in ‘Tell me, Cleopatra!’ Read it here. ) I was about to begin hating ‘dodger blue’ cars for years to come but I didn’t know it then. It was morning still and we were swarming the por...
Tell Me, Cleopatra! 11 May 2013 | 08:19 pm
She was not a friend, nor a classmate, nor a social sibling –the veil under which some people fraternised in the college. We were graduating in the same year and we both had English Literature and she...
The Song of Jar Jar Binks 5 May 2013 | 09:17 pm
I can smell the diction Taliban just beyond my window. I can hear the rat-a-tat of their words, its robotic monotony, flapping like dodo. Peeking out the pane, I see skyscrapers raised on cacophony of...
Sam Was Sad 1 May 2013 | 01:39 am
It was a sultry summer morning when I first met Sam twenty five years ago. My roommate was groveling for an omelet, sprawled in his bed. He had been missing his turn at cooking breakfast for the fourt...
To Kill a Dying Monk -II 24 Apr 2013 | 10:27 pm
The concluding part of the Dying Monk series. Read the first part here. Murali recovered his canvas shoes from a hollow in the trunk and slipped to the ground on his toes. Moving quickly, he broke int...
