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Showing posts from 2014

The Incomplete lesson

The clock was inching towards 8:20am. “Ayesha, we are getting late!” Rajesh was getting impatient to leave home for office, and he had to drop his son Abhijay at school. It was the morning routine, where every minutes’ delay only flared temperatures between him and his wife Ayesha. The mornings on weekdays were not dissimilar. After dropping his son at school, Rajesh headed to office. The music from the car’s speakers energized the morning, and in the evening it drowned the anxieties of the day. The dinner was served in front of the TV to some prime time news, or a movie. With ten years of marriage between them, Rajesh and Ayesha shared responsibilities of the household, sometimes stated, and sometimes unspoken. After dinner Abhijay would insist for at least a couple of stories to ensure he gets an early sleep. If Ayesha wasn’t reading stories from the books she rented weekly, it was Rajesh’s responsibility to create the tales. “Today I will tell you a story about...

A beach postcard

A morning in Mumbai The silence of the city raises it's head every Sunday morning; in its quietened streets and languid homes. A section of those who can't be stapled to their beds, or newspapers, descend on its long coastline. There is refreshing sight of boys and even girls playing soccer and India's national obsession- cricket; children with their beach sets making shapes from sand, people ambling bare feet with every passing wave cleaning their feet, and of course a majority in their soiled running shoes. The beach offers the canvas where toddlers to octogenarians find solace. As I walked from home towards the beach, the sound of waves forming and breaking greeted my ears. Reaching there, I found the high tide had progressed the waters deeper than usual, into the shore. The encroachment by the high tide had rendered useful play areas on the coastline, submerged. Some groups of cricket enthusiasts left disappointedly; soccer groups persisted. The urchins dived in...

Book Review : The village by the sea

The village by the sea by Anita Desai Book review - July 29, 2007 As I read the words in the last paragraph of the book, it was an hour past mid-night and I felt as if the dawn was breaking and sun-shine trickling through the glass panes of my window. The book was casting its spell. The village by the sea is a timeless story of transition, of transformation. The author declares it to be a true story and those who have seen India through her villages will concede to the poignancy. The story is about a family of six in a coastal village (by the name – Thul) in Maharastra, some 17 kms by sea from the port city of Mumbai.   The villagers survive by selling fish caught from the sea and coconuts from the trees sprinkled on the coastline. With time, catching fish meant going deep into the sea and with their primitive fragile boats, the fishermen were at the mercy of weather Gods. There was food stock enough to feed the local population but not enough money to buy them. ...

Book Review : Hills of Angheri

Hills of Angheri - Kaveri Nambisan Book review - written July 15, 2007 I bought this book in mid-April 2007 and ever since, have been on and off this book until today, when I completed reading it. When I first picked it up, I was driven by a desire to buy a book which would kindle the writer in me. Hence, the choice for a book which had Indian author, Indian milieu and virginity of a first time writer without literary lineage (Nambisan is a doctor by profession). Vote for Nambisan as the target was rather random, with equal number of first books competing for attention. I am happy and very satisfied with this turn of destiny. I must admit that the painting of hills on the cover page and the backdrop of the story in an Indian countryside did transport me into my village life, which I crave in my most unambiguous moments. The story centers around Nallinakshi, her “shared” dream to set up a hospital in her village with a close friend, her bonding with her family – her father...

The Brick-Man

Life in a city is a slave to many things. You have to cope with its speed, its rising expenses, its pollution, its opportunities all molded into the hands of a clock. Its weekdays represent wanton ambition; its weekends offer succor. On the weekend, weary city-zens try to clear the dust on their lives and in their relationships.   The park is one such escape for middle-aged fathers like me, to reward their weekend mornings and to see their kids realize their natural instinct – to play. In this island of greenery I meet known and new faces; young old men and old young men. I get greeted by familiar faces, many I don’t know names of, nor do they know mine. It is a relationship born of familiarity that remains limited to the hour spent inside the park’s gates or, chance meeting in market areas. Among the faces that became familiar, was a man in his mid-40s. I first saw him almost 2 years ago, using bricks as weights for stretching and strength exercises. Apart from...