Vol XVII Leave the child alone

Summertime-Mango-Season-Childhood

Waking upto a bicycle ride into the dawn; fat warm mornings under the mango trees; the stillness of afternoon lying on the floor reading a book while the hand reached for a curl of murukku; games of badminton in the evening; long hours of the night star gazing – this was the promise I made myself all through the school year. Of a summer vacation when I did whatever I wanted simply because I felt like doing so and not because it was expected of me. Continue reading

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Vol XV Rajnikant, The Urban Poor, Breakfast at Boogaloos, & Gauhar Jaan;

It was a sunny December morning. A stiff breeze whipped the leaves off the trees. In my little village Mundakotukurussi in Kerala, I soak in the sounds, sense and sights from a window. In the distance I could hear the whirr sound of the mill across the road from my house. The warm spicy scent of coriander seeds being ground wafts through the air. Continue reading

Vol XIV Readers & Reviewers, Auden, Overwinter and Chicken Curry for the Pampered Indian Male

Some years ago I decided that I wasn’t going to torture myself with more than one literary festival a year. And I would try, if possible, to avoid going to the same literary festival. The reason being that as a writer, there is very little one gets out of being present at these literary jamborees. Apart from the wining, dining, networking and air-kissing, that is. Continue reading

Vol XIII Double Fault, Ghosts, Memories, An Inner City And The Curious Case of Binayak Sen

We do not choose the worlds we write about. Most often than not, we write about what is the temple of our familiar. We locate our stories in the world that we believe we have a rare understanding of. A world that we internalize to an extent that it seeps into our every breath and thought. For only then can we recreate on paper that world with almost the life force it pulses with. Continue reading