thank you for reading things i write. never thought of myself as a writer, yet finding the right words for things is what makes me happy. i seem to just want to. and when you read, it feels really good. i hope you always get something out of it and also enjoy yourself.

A new romance

The man in the lift: chapter 1

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stories

one of those things

the birthday gift: a story

nutmeg and mace: a short story

the steps: a ghost story

i dreamt i met a man called…: a love story, sort of.

the girl on the terrace

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whimsy

headcount

on glinjerade rim

sunday tale

rainy days and sundays

when sunday invaded monday

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letters from 86q a collection of short stories from a house far away that’s never that far

jagged light: a short story

inheritance: a short story

the little room: a short story

pickle

just like uttam kumar : a short story

no escape : a short story

dream catcher : a short story

just another evening : a short story

hidden flowers

the offering : a short story

sunlight through the shutters : a short story

a winter afternoon : a story

the decision

fifth day of spring : a story

by the pond

triptych

revolution a story

five feet of the snake

the red oxide floor

the girl called rhino

nolen gur, balaclava, and bombs

upsidedownturn

the walls

maloti’s world

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mythology and more

the bandit ratnakar

the dark one… and the night of lights

why the story of hanukkah reminds me of madhusudan’s magic pot

it’s sukkot… chag sameach

a happy holi piece

with song and reverence and cap pistol… durga pujo

a whatsapp conversation and a durga pujo story

a diwali morning ponder

when you don’t know how to make mishti

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road to singapore

i have lived in singapore since 1997. on the nation’s fiftieth year of independence, 2015, anthony john, my walking partner, and i decided to do fifty walks around the island to celebrate. we couldn’t stop though at fifty, the walks continue. enjoy the walk talk.

changi prison and memories that capture

on the water side

it’s new year in chinatown

an evening on the bay

fly over holland road

the guns of labrador park

the real corolla off thomson road

the writing on the wall… at nus

alive and dead in lim chu kang

this was not in the plan… around parliament house

losing track

a fort in the city

all the perfumes

slowly down old upper thomson

stunning at fifty, that’s what.

streets of sembawang

the last kampong

thoughts taking off from an old airport

leave my village alone

no battle on waterloo

the streets of geylang

walking slowly in hougang

bridge to samulun

look out for the butterfly

yishun one evening

spring time

a year later

one-north and two places

a walk in little india

a campus ramble

curves and more in tiong bahru

how do you say ang mo kio

from gombak drive to armenia

a camp on mount vernon

next stop deepavali

a cemetery in kranji

reindeer on orchard road

what’s that in the water… kranji way

time travel off hyderabad road

a surprise in queenstown

the call of the big road… jalan besar

with basement, attic, and swimming pool on nassim

two walks in katong

a meeting in mandai

punggol peripatetics

war and peace on an evening walk

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sarees tell stories

rukmini hall

that combination

totally fair

the black paithani

time for a lal benaroshi

talk of the tangail

bandhani ties

a saree from kerala

sand banks, memory, and baluchari

a thing for khadi

a madhubani saree or two

the shelf

girls and their sarees

when did the kantha become a saree

of real and fake and chanderi sarees

the last saree i flicked from my mother

the nizam of mangalgiri

patola dreams

in a pink nylon saree

how do you wear your saree

muga and memories

iron nails and camel dung

a lament for a saree

checks and no balance from chettinad

the other blue banarasi

maharanis, construction workers, ics officers – a saree wearer’s longish ramble

a saree not so pretty, and a lady who came to mean courage

apple jam and lime green

a tale of two sarees

an evening of light and turmeric stains

i had to wear a saree today

if it’s gleaming like that, it must be a gadwal

a story on #instagram

a saree for mr jobs

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poems

nimbus

i have never been able to walk past that day

take me to the storm

spaces

poetic word

you fold the covers

go away.

hello, is that you, pluto

nor named

the sea writes its own poetry

freshly baked cakes

scrolling down twitter one morning

promises that won’t be kept

when i see flowers i think of you

the queue

for b

don’t drag me down to your controversy

i want to pack up the night and

sand through my fingers

i am grateful for the silence in the night

i don’t look at you any more

i’ve burnt with you

my soldier, you are gone

that plant on my desk

let it go

every now and then

forever

tears

a few lines on a scene i saw while walking that morning

droplets, breath, air?

refugee again

his forever…

you laughed in my dream

ferrari lover

a picture taken

pertolerate

the boats call you

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adiction

oh, those vw ads.

who wrote “the zing thing”?

the toothpaste revolt

it’s a girl and she’s utterly…

we’re stirred and completely shaken (no pan intended).

the new vicks commercial

a new vicks commercial and a very old one

who put the toy in the binaca toothpaste box?

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television talk

a strange sort of love

it was only a tv soap and yet.

bade bhaiyya ki dulhania was not what i thought it would be

an offensive note in kuch rang pyaar ke aise bhi

not all love stories perhaps are about a boy and a girl

my first encounter with a show i refused to watch, or episode 1 of episode 1

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it’s the movies

why i enjoyed the second best exotic marigold hotel

woman in gold… a reverie

the players of shatranj

dangal has me flying

death of a heart throb

so, veere di wedding

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book reviews

mother of 1084

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food and foibles

mutterings over methi chicken

have you ever had kheer komla?

on seeing facebook and remembering my grandmother

turmeric can make you ramble

“as wrinkled as my face…” a recipe for tomato mahasha.

fish kochuri… a halloween recipe

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

yes, deep fried, of course.

luchi, anyone?

how did the salmon get into the shorshe diye machher jhaal

if winter comes, can motorer kochuri be far behind

a payesh for shavuot

a kosher take on my mother’s chicken chaat recipe

the baghdadi jewish dish that was created in mumbai and kolkata

when you don’t know how to make mishti

pass me a chomchom, or make it three.

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other rambles

to find a poet

have you seen the koh-i-noor?

remembering mills and boon

switzerland? you must be dancing.

brexit on a holiday

shoe story

an evening piece

how perfect are some things

on the road with a memory

what have they done to my iphone

talking about the good old days

a sycamore in the garden… bahceda yesil cinar

the doormat that refused to be treated like one

keep the day

the chilli farmer’s son

the last day of march

remember the code?

the parrot green umbrella

a meeting in petra

taj snapshot

sunday at the keyboard

a sliver of sky

wednesday doodles

have you been to kerala?

the replacement bug

rebellion

two wanderers and a few #capturethemoment #ig_portraits #hvmansouls

a story on #instagram

Thoughts from a river

From Murshidabad

travel has got a hold on me, the mind flies to places even as i sit and type. i paused here at the doorway of a ruin in murshidabad, a mosque not completed. below lay somewhere the grave of a royal princess. out there was green, blue, space, breath. are we always at a threshold? about to step into worlds we don’t yet know…