i don’t think the “god’s own country” campaign had started when i first went to kerala. it was in the summer of ’89, my first trip to south india; first bangalore, then cochin. i had no idea what to expect, but a malayalee friend would always speak of the different green of his state. his voice would definitely reflect a funny kind of pride when he mentioned that. being from bengal, another “green” state, with poets and lyricists devoting many…
it looked like it was going to rain. flashes of lightning lit up the frosted window pane every now and then. the quiet but ominous rumbling of thunder could be heard, approaching. deepa typed away, her mind suffused with a world she had been trying to find words for the entire day. her fingers moved swiftly over the keypad, then halted as the letters began to form a word. no, it wasn’t right, it didn’t say what she was trying…
Recently, we visited a place called Choki Dhani, situated on the outskirts of Chennai. It was an unforgettable experience. Choki Dhani, meaning ‘Excellent Village’, is a unique concept of dining and having fun, completely in Rajasthani flavour. Basically starting out as a Rajasthani cuisine eatery, it expanded to creating a complete village fair filled with rides, dances, snacks, acrobatics, puppet shows and even palm readers. This themed village fair can be found near several towns in the country. As we…
Arnav dialed Khushi’s number for the umpteenth time and yet again Khushi disconnected after a few rings. “What the … ” exclaimed Arnav and threw the phone on his bed. He was getting more angry and restless every time Khushi cut his call. “What’s the matter, Nannav?”, the voice of NK accompanied by sound of crunching potato chips fuelled Arnav’s irritation further. NK walked into Arnav’s room munching chips, just as Arnav was throwing the phone on the bed. “Tum…
of course, i first heard about it on twitter. it started with all the talk of the m word. yes, masturbation. unbelievable, unheard of… literally a word never ever heard perhaps in the context of an indian film. what am i saying, a word never heard in the public space of the country… even at home, i mean really? that too, girls? right wing trolls went after swara bhaskar, also sonam kapoor, two of the lead actresses, both outspoken young…
“unpalatable to the lord of death! first among the monkeys!! you’ve seen five feet of the snake?? burnt face, extract of low stock!!” jomer oroochi! bandorer ogrogonno!! shaaper paanch pa dekhecho?? mukh pora, bodjaat!! the swear words flew fast, interrupted only by indignant breaths, equally rapid. the frail old lady’s voice got more stentorian with each word, the affront in it resounding. “return them this moment! return them now, i say!” she bellowed, her small frame shaking, her chest…
punggol apparently means “hurling sticks at the branches of fruit trees to bring them down to the ground” in malay. it also may refer to a wholesale market for fruits and vegetables. i had never heard of this area in the northeast of singapore till one day someone spoke of the wonderful seafood you get out there. a couple of years later, i heard punggol mentioned in the prime minister’s national day speech, seemed it was going to be developed…
mandai has such a pretty sound and it usually means the zoo to me. but we were not going to go there, we decided, we’d just start out at some point on mandai road and walk around upper seletar reservoir, singapore’s oldest freshwater lake (i don’t like the word catchment) and then follow the road, see where we land up. aj, my really understanding personal trainer to whom i can happily say i hate the word gym unless he means…
once, the sea used to come right up to katong, and wealthy merchants and traders had their mansions along the coast. there are several big houses here still, but the sea has been pushed back, by almost a mile i think. i first came to katong – a suburb in the east – with a colleague, to buy cheap perfumes at katong shopping centre. everything changes in singapore, all the time, but happily, the shopping centre with its deep blue…
it’s a favourite saree of mine, and now it’s fraying. a strange kind of pain at this weakening of closely entwined threads, at this clear signal of mortality, at passing. it’s a saree from orissa, now the spelling has been changed to odisha; we spend a lot of time changing spellings for some reason. my mother and i bought it, around thirty five years ago, from one of the saree shops along triangular park in kolkata (we changed that spelling…