Many a times when we read a book, we often wonder at the lack of detailing about the era in which the characters lived. We wonder why the characters were not more fleshed out in terms of being synced with the times they drew breath in. For example, consider an old man lying on a
Image from here 'You have changed' is the 'Houston, we have a problem' of married couples. The spaceship of marriage strays away from a predefined trajectory and men who think they are sitting in the control room, get a nasty shock of an SOS. At first, the sentence is spoken in a 'gentle,
Trams in Chandni Chowk. Image from here I read Calvino's Invisible Cities last year. In the book, Marco Polo describes 55 cities to the emperor Kublai Khan using objects from the cities as the Emperor and Marco Polo speak different languages. Their understanding and the interpretation of the cities are different and still
Image from here When your mind is not in a turmoil, close your eyes and think about your childhood. Dive as deep as you can and remember the moments of a different era, a warmth of a different kind. Remember the time when the complications and realities of the world meant nothing. It
Hi Everyone, All of us have many questions while we are reading a book. Of course we usually do not have the author at our disposal to ask those questions. So, I am providing you the opportunity to do so completely muft! muft! muft! Many of you might have read False Ceilings by now or
Anika will the three this year. My wife and I are about to enter a dangerous phase of our life where we will be assaulted by our relatives, their maids and drivers and their relatives to have another child. They will fall at our feet and beg to have some mercy on our only child.
Image from here Karwachauth was on. They have never celebrated it in their ten years of togetherness. It was never important. But suddenly, it was something worth celebrating this year. Abhimanyu gave in finally. What could he do to make the night special? He was in no mood to stay hungry for the
Don't flinch. Stare at three year old Aylan. Stare at him lying on a beach, his face half buried in the wet sand. Stare at his bright clothes. Stare at his tiny hands, his shoes. Stare at his future that drowned with him. Stare at the million ways he could have been saved. Don't look