a memoir of etchings and wanderings
Remember video cassettes? Before floppy drives, CDs, DVDs and external hard drives, those little black boxes contained people’s entire worlds. Mine as well. As I disposed of over 50 of them a few days ago, I was fondly reminded of how important they used to be to me. TV recordings of Disney Hour, numerous animated movies – from Cinderalla to Chip ‘N’ Dale to the Asterix series, taping of documentaries … Continue reading “The Lonely VCR” →
Who said shoes are just things you walk in? Shoes are memoirs. Of the places you have been. Of the squares you walk in. Of distances you have travelled. More than often, they know more secrets than your best friend. Ballerinas. Mary Janes. Converses. Penny Loafers. Oxfords. Flip-flops. *** This is a story of a flat who wanted to be a heel. Give it a watch, you won’t be disappointed.
I feel my eyes well up every time I hear this song. Unplugged or not. Regardless of the growing belief that getting out is the only way forward, how far can you really run from home? If only Shahrukh, Ashutosh Gowarikar and A.R. Rahman realised that this movie and its songs were one of their best works, they would have attempted a reunion. I don’t know how they got it so right, … Continue reading “No Place Like Home” →
I read this on my reader and for a moment fell in love with the thought. I wanted this to never get lost, so am re-posting here. *** Waves. Nobody ever writes them. No one stops and thinks about how they come to an end, using up their dying breath to sometimes crash passionately against the rocks and sometimes kiss the sand tenderly before disappearing. I wonder if the waves … Continue reading “The Obituary Of Waves” →
Can you envision a plush open water-filled reservoir lake in the middle of the Arabian desert? I couldn’t too. Until I visited one last weekend. In the wilayat of Quriyat, nestled into the eastern Hajar mountains, is a crescent shaped lake filled with crystal blue waters and shapely rocks rising from the bottom. Having being constructed in 2009, the project was under wraps, while it was being tested. Finally opened … Continue reading “Muscat Travelogue | Wadi Dayqah” →
When a tropical hurricane struck the most developed country in the world, there were discussions, editorials , infographics and serious contemplation on the ‘why’. Mother Nature isn’t biased. So the reason has to be scientific. Or geographic. Or climatology-related. Over the past week, I have been following the path of Hurricane Sandy quite closely. Metaphorically speaking, of course. I was alarmed and intrigued when I came across this image in one of … Continue reading “Need To Wake” →
So when a seven-day long holiday is declared by the Government, one’s natural reaction is – “Lets get the hell out of here!” I was no different. Having researched in detail about budget trips with the family, created excel sheets, pored over the maps of Istanbul, Tehran and Amman with great enthusiasm – I am now equipped to be your certified Middle East tour guide. As what usually happens to … Continue reading “Muscat Travelogue | As Sifah” →
I was just spending another afternoon watching one of my favourite television series – Criminal Minds. Those who think of it to be full of violence and meaningless bloodshed couldn’t be more wrong. The core of the series is the people. As it is in life. The friendships, the laughter, the things they say to each other while they try to get through their lives. As it happens with the … Continue reading “Let It Be Me” →
In no way like Calcutta, but Pujo was always a big deal even for children in Muscat. We had new clothes for each of the five main days. The Indian Social Club, Bengali Wing would organise for an assortment of traditional and well, not-so traditional activities. Recitations, cooking competitions, music and dance, theater style performance by children and adults. Over the years, it evolved into fancy dress competitions, fashion shows and things … Continue reading “Pujo by the Palm” →
Washington Irving said, “There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness but of power. They are messengers of overwhelming grief and of unspeakable love.” ***