AND NONE TURNED INTO A PRINCE, THANKFULLY
Round and round the pond we went, round and round the small shrubs growing around the pond. Peering into the pond,
Round and round the pond we went, round and round the small shrubs growing around the pond. Peering into the pond,
Listen to this StoryNarrated by Anjan Prakash BEING IN OUR RIGHT ELEMENTS Xavier, Mankurad, Mussarat, Malgesh, are locals. Dasheri, Badami, Kesar, Malgoa, Imam Pasand, Mallika, Neelam, Totapuri, Chausa, non-locals. For those of you friends who are not from India, no, they aren’t a list of my boyfriends or girlfriends. In fact, they are more than […]
Listen to this StoryNarrated by Anjan Prakash YOU. YOUR PUPILS. YOUR FRIENDS. GOD. NOT A BAD PUBLIC, THAT – Sir Thomas More (protagonist, A Man For All Seasons, Robert Bolt) Here is a story, like there always is, behind simple shifts that take place within. Many a time, the beauty of what has changed within […]
‘I am missing my babies the most, especially Solo, he is way too attached to us, and will be sulking by…
Twenty one years ago, my mother-in-law did not approve of Keshav and my relationship at all.
March 26th, 2013 (Tuesday)
My father was home, but his body strength was slowly fading. In fact the year 2013 began with his heart showing signs of weakening further…
I start by inviting you all to close your eyes, and do keep it closed till I ask you to open them.
In Indigenous ways of knowing, we say that a thing cannot be understood until it is known by all four aspects of our being: mind, body, emotion, and spirit – Robin Wall Kimmerer, Gathering Moss
The word celebrate doesn’t like to be used occasionally. She keeps me
company every now and then, but ever since I began to see myself as a
writer, which was a few months ago, she keeps hopping around my
shoulder, on the keyboard, and this week celebrate was persistent that
the story be about her, why she came on this earth, and how she wishes to be used.
Long Long ago, little children, especially little girls collected feathers in Bangalore city. Someone knew of this `below-8-years-trade-among little girls’ and probably even dyed chicken feathers and any white feather into seductive colors, sold them somewhere far away, and by the time it came to us little girls, it felt like such feathers have always been in circulation to skillfully negotiate and procure from within your clique.