All Posts By

indrani robbins

indi

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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indi

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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indi

keep the day

sorry but i find the international women’s day one of the most patronising notions ever. read up a bit on its genesis, saw why women back in the early 1900s way before we had the right to vote and, of course, when women were working hard and not being paid as much as men (still the case in many/most places) thought of the idea… and i fully empathise. but in the form it exists today, set in place by institutions…

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Poetry

Buddha & Friends

A poem by our guest writer Lalita Arya …………………………………………………………   I went a-walking, casually strolling  in the busy market place, there were roaming cows, munching goats & stray dogs. The open-air stalls were filled with colorful handbags, real & costume jewelry carved wooden images of two Krishnas absorbed in their fluid notes of flutes that Nataraj kept dancing on.  The Buddha didn’t hear a thing as he was fast asleep  in his meditative state. They were all outside the shop…

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food indi

of chilli chicken, hakka chow, and other such important things.

this morning, a friend who had tracked me down after years, thanks to writersbrew (that thought makes me so happy i listened to a young girl and started writing here), sent me a lovely little video on whatsapp. it was an edited version of the one here. do take a look, bound to touch you. video credit uploader i saw the short video and grinned. so many memories, delightful tastes traipsing in my head, making me hungry. i have always…

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road to singapore

time travel off hyderabad road

why is hyderabad road called hyderabad road? i couldn’t crack the puzzle. once upon a time, long long ago, that insanely rich man called the nizam of hyderabad may have owned property here… or he may not have. there is some mention of this in a newspaper – the hindu, published in india – from many years ago (net digs can bring up all sorts of things). anyway, i am not at all sure as to why the name of…

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Espresso Shots

a winter afternoon : a story

she stood on the third floor balcony, looking out at nothing actually. it was a bright day, there was a faint chill in the air even though everyone said winter was over. anyway, winter this year had not been that cold, she thought distractedly, although shurjo had as always worn his wool cap from the first day of november. every year, sometime in the middle of october, he pulled out his two balaclavas and had them washed. one was dull…

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sarees tell stories

patola dreams

the edges of the patterns are slightly blurred, the colours are shimmering, the silk flows. i am holding this darkly lovely saree at a boutique in bombay and quietly falling in love. the fabric is soft as it falls languidly to the floor, the base is black with a mesh of yellow and magenta and purple and red and on it, the borders are ganga jamna… one red, the other magenta, not too wide, not too narrow. everything about the…

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road to singapore

what’s that in the water… kranji way

have you ever stood at a beautiful spot, bright, calm, and scenic, feathery clouds drifting in a clear blue sky, waters rippling by, the green of the grass pure and lush, and then felt it all go absolutely eerie? can’t say exactly at what point it hit me, but as i looked at the lone man fishing out there, and my eyes followed the even waters of the johor straits all the way to malaysia on the other side, as…

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food Rambles, Rhymes and Tales

Food and snacks of Guyana: Indo-Guyanese and other dishes

food snacks indo guyanese

It looks like an ordinary birthday cake, but it is hardly just a cake. It is the famous Guyanese Christmas Black Cake. The icing is also not just simple little whipped up frosting in white and pink. It is the famous Guyanese hard icing underlaid with expensive and delicious marzipan. Come on a fascinating trip of Guyana and Indo-Guyanese food as Writersbrew guest writer Lalita Arya returns to the land of her birth. It is called black cake because once…

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