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(This was my first middle which was published in The Indian Express way back in 1991/92. Was rummaging through some old memories when I chanced upon the cutting.) Even though some would prefer to use such dismissive terms as adolescent infatuation and calf love I still call itlove. And it is not at all difficult…
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This is not a Hitchcockian murder mystery. Although it does involve a bathroom and a washbasin, there isn’t any blood dripping suddenly and all that macabre cinematic effects. But, does the destruction of ego fall in the category of murder.? Maybe. Anyway, to continue, all the action happened thanks to an offending faucet fixed in…
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I have a soft corner for cricket pitch curators. They get the brickbat for no fault of theirs. Making a pitch is no child’s play. And, yet, with all humbleness, I like to state that I have been a curator, once. Child’s play or not, we kids did once curate a perfect pitch. In a…
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Communication, the art or the non-art of it, is a veritable minefield. No matter how carefully one treads, one is bound to trip. For the simple reason it involves far too many variables _ age, intellect, gender, mood, _ just to name a few. And when it comes to communication between spouses, the minefield assumes…
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A memory rewind just happened, when a good friend from Hyderabad called the other day. And as it happens with long conversations, the topic turned to the “unbearable, unrelenting summer.” It had me thinking about summers, summers years ago, which had its own charm for us as kids. For one, staying indoors was never an…
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The ink in the pen dries,Memory fades.Fades? Not really.They jumble, entagle each other.Beyond recognition.That’s why you need words.Words, jot it down, they say,What do they know?I am good with words.I just have to fill in the crossword boxes.Starting with U, usefull, useless?What they don’t know is,I know many words,they haven’t heard of.Memorget, for one.He, he,…
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A small droplet fell, The eyes peered heavenwards, The scorched heart woke, with hope, Desired more, even more, The dormant thirst, rekindled, Yearnings swelled, Desires and yearnings, Are they the same? Seeking, searching, pleading for more, But the heavens mocked, And nothing happened, The unsatiated body resigned, Decided to wait further, Just then, Another drop…
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I am now seeing the brighter side to things these days. It isn’t so much as a philosophical outlook, but a physical one. You see, I have had my cataract removed in both my eyes.These days when such surgeries are over in a blink of an eye this statement may not raise much eyebrows. But…
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Thirty years back to the date, I landed in Chennai (then Madras) from Ahmedabad, to be a part of the ‘legendary’ Sports desk at The Hindu. I wouldn’t describe myself as a road-mappish guy, The where-do-you-see-yourself-so much years- down-the-line questions always have me stumped. I would rather take a road and see where it leads.…
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OF late, I cannot write anything without getting into trouble. My construed insensitivity and my supposed chauvinism fails to clear the ‘politically right’ angle. It is almost impossible to get my random ramblings through the politically-correct sieve. It would take some amount of bravery to publish what I write. Having said that, I must admit…
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आज अचानक मुझे सूझा मैं कवि बन जाऊं कुछ पंक्तियां कह लूंगा कुछ बातें सुना दूंगा भाषा का भले ही सही ज्ञान न हो और ना ही व्याकरण में निपुणता शब्दकोश भी बस सिर्फ चंद पन्नों का बस लेकर सहारा लय का मैंने भी कविता सुना दी अपने अमूल्य ज्ञान का पिटारा खोल डाला ऐसा…
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The eyes, frozen, stared Alone, amidst the crowd, The eyes gazed, a vacant gaze Hiding behind it, the turmoil Hoping time delays the moment Wait for the heart to decide The little tug at the heart, Was it the pain ? Of the inevitable goodbye? The moment, however, sped past Time heals, eventually The gaze…
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Random Ramblings of a Reluctant Blogger 