Monthly Archives

March 2017

Rambles, Rhymes and Tales

the last day of march

things keep moving moving so fast one moment it’s there and now it’s gone what about the things that stay on? as the years pass, i notice it’s getting to be quite an intense experience. this feeling of leaving, not childhood or youth or the thirties or forties or a month or year behind, or some idea of who one is… no. it’s like i leave worlds behind. entire universes, planets with their own sun, moon, and stars; their own…

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black poetry

Is it a colour or absence of one, Or is it a sign of superstition. Is it a mixture of all the shades, Or what remains after it fades. Our guest writer Yangchen Bhutia is back.. This time with some poetry on Black… Sometimes, it is linked with a race, Whilst the reverse is deemed an ace. It represents sorrow, sickness and death, Also enormous unaccounted wealth. Either a hole in outer space, That absorbs all and leaves no trace.…

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sarees tell stories

in a pink nylon saree

it was my maternal uncle’s wedding. may 1966. i was six, my cousins between four and ten. we were five of us girls i think. we were all going to attend the wedding in calcutta and then go to delhi for the reception. my grandmother, always generous, fun, a bit over the top as grandmothers really ought to be, decided to get nearly identical lehengas and sarees made for us. the lehengas were in red silk with green cholis and…

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Espresso Shots

the decision

they started cutting the house the day after holi, so that they could finish before the monsoon came. she sat on her bed, legs crossed, staring at the zigzag of blue and dull pink on the fading green counterpane, almost meditative, as she heard the workers arrive. it was two minutes after nine. usually in calcutta, nothing happened on time. bini babu left for work at ten thirty every day, his office started at nine thirty. the cook rarely entered…

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aarwen Poetry

A Home Is…

Home Poetry

That wall against which I rest my tired head The last step sitting on which I stare blankly ahead I see my dog curled for hours in his happy spot From where he barks at neighbours no matter what The soothing hum of gently falling rain Sleepy at midnights I hear it time and again All around is wild green grass I never did mow I’ll throw away those sunflower seeds I never could sow The kitchen was forever mine…

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Now Brewing

Construction to Conservation

construction to conservation

“Once you are a civil engineer, you start seeing the world differently!” I read this quote on somebody’s t-shirt during my college days. I am a B.Tech in Civil Engineering and I still remember how I used to admire……. the winding roads laid out across the most challenging of terrains, the precision with which flyovers were aligned amongst the busiest of cities, the way all the systems were archived via daily report systems (like those here:, the strength of…

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the chilli farmer’s son

i keep thinking of her face. the naked helplessness. her expressions are almost gone, the suffering robbing her of that too perhaps. she’s saying something in telegu. i don’t understand what she’s saying but her vulnerability is making my heart hammer in a strange way. that’s real, that’s so real, no fudging in it. once in a way her voice shakes and she trembles a little as a sob escapes silently, a tear drops from a vacant tired eye and…

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a happy holi piece

you charged out and grabbed someone and covered their face, head, neck, whatever you could get hold of, in bright, powdery, bursting out of you fist, flying abeer. the coloured powder was vermilion red or marigold orange or wild mean yellow or deadly green, there was this deep cobaltish blue too. and a deeper purple. how can i forget the chutney pink. the point was to put that colour on someone first before they did the same to you. of…

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In Pursuit Of Knowledge

pursuit of knowledge

I am amazed at how many people I know who have gone on to study more than me. A Masters degree is something I never contemplated. Often people have asked me if I plan to study more. “Oh no! Am done with all the studying I could possibly want to ever do”, is my weary reaction. It’s been my reaction for many years now. The irony of life is how our responses change if you allow yourself to notice it.…

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Like a girl…

Freedom Like girl

A few days back, I went to supervise one of the school plays which was shortlisted to be presented on the 15th August (Indian Independence Day) celebration in front of the honourable chief minister amongst other dignitaries. The theme of the play was cleanliness; the recent topic of interest across the country. The story was simple, comparison between 2 families, one which lives hygienically versus one which does not. For obvious reasons, the emphasis was more on the ‘dirty’ family…

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