one month, thirty days, 720 hours, etc.
it has been two months and i have not punched out even a single blogpost. its nothing new, this radio silence, especially since its wintery-covid season now....
ola mi agos
Dear friend(s), I come to this writing this tiny letter out of sheer confusion and through a tiny bit of procrastination. Unlike a lot of successful tiny...
a sad n angry time
Dear friend, This letter comes in between a working week. Like most of the other things not just in our lives, but also in the world around us, this letter...
the creative benefits of waking up early
i wake up an hour early to build/make something for myself. a cup of chai, a stream of consciousness poem, a string of letters or just a tiny river song. on...
permafrost worries
A condensed version of this essay was published here in Sunila Galappatti's lockdown journal. Today was more or less the same as yesterday, which in turn was...
prabhat road rains
pune, c. July 16, 2016 Smell It has been raining in this city for the last fortnight and the incessant pouring has ceased, held itself back for the last four...
Memories of monsoons past: Madras edit (2014-15)
this morning as i sat in my room, put together a work email, a cool draft grazed my neck. it comforted me and transported me back to the July of 2014. my...
Films as literature
With the present job losses, migrant labour crises, multiple and sheer statistics of death all around us, I have been unable to continue with my personal...
Laurence Anyways and then some more....
A movie that I've been meaning to watch for years, Laurence, Anyways, I was able to see finally. My notes on the film are perhaps for another time, but...
on words
This is a slightly meaningless ramble from a week ago that sat comfortably in my drafts read by just me. Some words from my favourite writer Jhumpa Lahiri...
food, memories and Pune nostalgia
June 2018, from a conversation with a friend “A writer is forever trying to get his reader to taste. Taste my world, he says, smell it, ingest it. A novelist...
boys/girls lockerroom and the sickness of it
'read about the bois locker room?'i sent to 5 friends as i processed the details, and pasted a slip of paper on my laptop's camera hole.someone said 'oh so...
a letter to you, through this mist
the white noise you have left behind in the mist...those eyes are books, that body of work the marking of a lifetime lived wholely. every interview, a time...
an ashen spring, like never before
some mornings its almost as if natures beckons me to wake up early, at ungodly hours and then lose myself into the interplay of what's unraveling outside the...
Pages from a control freak's quarantine diary
I read this lovely Francesca Melandri advisory to the UK from Italy here just about an hour ago and made some parallel notes in my diary. Adding and taking...
on choice and quietness
someone in my neighbourhood tugs at their guitar every night. every night around this very newfangled and earthly hour, someone draws the instrument of their...
reminiscing in the time of quarantine
While we get to look at the other side of things. I segregate my blog with this post into: before covid 19 and after covid 19. How in a couple of days' time,...
three days to 29
i wish i could go back to the day when i finished school. the date was february 2, a day after my birthday. when i walked through the empty school...
a Lahore of my dreams!
i snuck out of home to evade that endless, omnipresent boredom that lingers heavily on when you much against your will decide to spend a 3 day weekend there....
antareen
windy nights, lonesome eyes, longwinded phone conversations with a stranger, idling about in a queen sized bed, a wistful look in the eyes that gaze far and...
