#scurf 108: an ode to the good old, environment-friendly air cooler
and the cool times, sweet climes and mirthful chimes it has led to
#scurf 107: Towards a second draft of an imperfect life
On Sheila Heti’s 'Pure Colour'
#scurf106 winter is gone
dreams, sighs and some misremembered selves
#scurf105 on superficially gorgeous songs
on the emptiness of Gehraaiyaaaaaaan and the Kuhad brigade of nonballads, the beauty of cold/mess and emraan hashmi love poems
#scurf104 old*** dispatches from Kovai
old scribbles from November, as I smoothed over and matured into a December in 2016, alone (well...) in Coimbatore
#scurf 103: notes from leopold, 2016
an incomplete dirge i wrote in 2016 on The Leopold Cafe
#scruf102: an anatomy of bras (from a different time)
i wrote this anatomy of bras told in two parts in 2016, or maybe sometime even before.
A vast nothingness
this was supposed to be about a lot of things, but it turned out to be about nothing
#scurf100: this time last week
delhi winter rains and reading and writing and trying to do a lot more on a rainy Winter Delhi morning
#scurf99: what do you write when you have nothing to write about
or so you think and you are just really, really lazy
#scruf 98: on flying again
i flew, i thought, i scribbled
#scurf96: that one song, those hairy arms and the last, tight hug
When xyz cannot sleep, does he sing himself to sleep? I wonder... Something happened in the first week of August and it stirred a pot of emotions, making me...
#scurf97: Dilip Kumar, my father and memories
Through my school days I was the uncool kid who knew more about 1950s Hindi movies and songs, about Madhubala and Dilip Kumar than anyone in my age cared to....
#scurf95: A note on one year of Irrfan's passting
From the archives
#scurf94: sticky dog days this summer season
how do you feel being stuck in a traffic for more than two hours? your vehicle dragging itself barely at a speed of 15-20 kmph. the stasis of the world...
#scurf93: an ode to my elegiac hometown
The stench was everywhere. There were spaces of no hope, pockets of nothing, mounds of heap and dust and mud that greeted us all around. But what first got...
#scurf92: on not numbering
::bizarre newsletter alert:: i wish someone paid me to write a better, more fleshed out newsletter, so going to keep this weird (which is also sort of on-...
#scurf 91: march in 15 days (not a meme)
its going to be march in 15 days again, so this newsletter very obviously will touch upon a host of feelings and thing that i've missed in the last (almost)...
#scurf 90: on shaping this newsletter, its three year anniversary and my mangled reading habits
a little bit of reworking of this newsletter has been on the cards. as it turns three (!!!) i am going ahead with the rework and give it a more definite...
cats, trees and a lonesome us
at the risk of shocking some of you, here's how the abyss looks like, seen from the window of my room. we have currently been adopted by these feline rascals...
