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indrani robbins

road to singapore

the call of the big road… jalan besar

i don’t know what exactly is art, but if it’s something that makes you stop, stare, feel a strange attraction and look at a thing differently, then this was definitely art. it made me want to go close, touch the thing. on lavender street that day, the sun blazing, traffic going by at its usual weekday pace, i couldn’t look away from that burst of colours and intriguing shapes. what was it? what was it doing here? shouldn’t it be…

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indi

remember the code?

this morning, twitter took me to an article in the washington post, which in turn hauled me straight back to school. 1976… or was it ’77? grade ten or eleven. we all had to do a national cadet corps (ncc) certificate course. tt was compulsory. that’s when we heard “dit dit dit dah dah dah dit dit dit” for the first time. our instructor was teaching us morse code. the dit was a short sound, the dah a long one,…

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indi Poetry

for b

who reaches through the shredding the dreadful denuding who thrusts away the demon embedded entrenching who catches the sun and brings it to the cave tell me, girl, who who holds you when light has gone who touches you when nothing remains who sings to you when the hour breaks faith who, tell me, girl, who who will cleave you as they deceive you who will cover you as they unclothe you who will raise you as they inter you…

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Espresso Shots

rainy days and sundays

“bzzzzzzzzzz!” it was the carpenter bee. black and rotund and a little hazy as it whirred about and dashed against the blooms of the bright yellow trumpet flower. “oh, up early today i see!” exclaimed the lavender mauvely, it was the nearest to the blues it could get. “let it be… let it be…! let it beeeee…” replied the carpenter bee, it had a thing for punning. no one ever said a bee couldn’t, after all. lavender rolled its spikes,…

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indi Poetry

the battle

my heart was in a battlefield today defeat had touched my dreams truth as i had always known it to be writhed torn and begged to breathe   demons came raging from hidden caves demolishing my faith, denouncing my dawn mortal wound crushed my land as it lay twined in my ambushed heart   then a sound came near from far away so far it exceeds all my reach and yet it was here, carried on another sound whose decibel…

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road to singapore

a surprise in queenstown : road to singapore

had we not been trying our best to avoid the cemetery, we’d never have found it. the rain had been heavy, it was never quite gone the entire day. aj and i set out to walk around seven in the evening, light was falling fast. the traffic was thick and noisy along queensway, the first left from my place. to avoid it, we crossed the road, walked a little along commonwealth avenue, then took an unfamiliar path going in the…

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Espresso Shots

fifth day of spring : a story

the idols were lined up on the narrow ledge under the tall windows in the corner room. the ledge was designed to be a book shelf but no one remembered seeing a book on it ever; instead, dust and cobwebs gathered and had a good time on the yellow ochre lime wash, enjoying the slanting sun rays that fell through the shutters. but today, there was not a speck of dust anywhere. nor cobwebs. only eight beautiful idols. eight pairs…

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food

Rasam – The essence of comfort

Our guest writer Achala Srivatsa loves to cook and ponder the finer points of what we eat. This is her thoughtful take on rasam, with a tadka of flavourful musings. The earliest memories I have of my childhood are of being sick with a sore throat and fever. Those days my food habits were, shall we say, not very refined in that I’d pretty much eat anything I was given, anything I found or otherwise came my way. A group…

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ADiction

the new vicks commercial

credit: uploader The new Vicks commercial presents an unconventional mother-daughter story. The viral ad has already got nearly 6 million hits, and it’s not even been a week. Two of our writers post their thoughts on it. Do share yours, please. What consists of a family? One might ask. A mother, a father, one or more children, along with a set of grandparents might seem like an ideal image of a family. But does that necessarily have to be so?…

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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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