Browsing All Posts filed under »Prose«

Voices Off

February 4, 2014


Participated in this wonderful, wonderful theatre experiment, called Remote Bangalore. I wrote about it for Time Out Bengaluru for their January issue. Here’s an excerpt of the sort of awesomeness director Stefan Kaegi was up to. — Kaegi, the director of Berlin-based theatre company Rimini Protokoll, has taken cues from the world of online games, where hundreds of strangers […]

A Hundred and Twenty Four

January 15, 2014


When I am not considering the cleanliness of my navel, I remember to be grateful for empathy and the strange and wonderful places it takes me to. That on a quiet day, at an unsuspecting moment, I can find kinship in odd vulnerabilities at the corners of everyday tedium. That I can find myself in […]

An Unofficial Nike Ad.

September 15, 2013


Pull out your old marathon tee. Put it aside to change into when you’re done. Wear your still-wet-from-the-downpour-day-before shoes. And run. Ditch the app. Fuck the playlist. Run. Feel your muscles heave. Feel the eyes of strangers on you when you run a pace they know is too quick to keep up. Feel the confusion […]

A Hundred and Twenty Two

July 22, 2013


It begins when you knock over an ink bottle with your elbow. You blink, registering what your clumsy, wayward elbow has done. A conspiracy of blue rushes in hurried whispers across an ever-growing island, corrupting weave after weave of checkered tablecloth. You wince, like it is a vase falling, and you wait for its clipped […]

Delayed Gratification. And Chow Chow Bhath.

June 19, 2013


Only recently did it click in my head, that I eat sandwich borders first, the creamed biscuit second, and my cake’s icing last. Perhaps it is a sign of persistent middle-class manners – or just a persistent middle-class mother – but I’m afraid delayed gratification is quite a reflex for me. I’d like to imagine […]

A Hundred and Twenty One

April 30, 2013


The most important lesson I learned at a swimming pool is from a time before when I could swim. I loved our school swimming pool. It was crystal blue, large, square, and tiled white. On many early mornings, I’d sit at the bleachers with my back to the field, and watch the gentle swells of […]

A Hundred and Twenty

March 4, 2013


It has little to do with a surprise grandchild. But your mother does not want me in her house when she’s not around. Not because she’d have to hesitate before doing up your bed, or would be forced to have an explanation for the stray hair the maid found that is simply too long for […]