Cinthya

The Booksellers of Brigade Road

Bangalore is no Dilli when it comes to old books. You don’t find hawkers selling yellowed paperbacks outside every gully and metro station. (Which is hardly a big deal, considering techno-wallon ka sheher has exactly six stations at the moment. :P) You’d be hard put to find something like the Daryaganj Sunday Book market here.ContinueContinue reading “The Booksellers of Brigade Road”

The “other” Nobel Prize contender

The Indian press heaved a collective sigh of regret when Malala Yousafzai did not win the Nobel Prize for Peace. Every newspaper and TV channel loves a good story, and Malala’s offered everything. A courageous girl ready to fight to death for her right to education, and a chance to gloat over Pakistan’s abysmal humanContinueContinue reading “The “other” Nobel Prize contender”

BLF-2013: A balmy afternoon and some book-time

Why do people visit lit fests? That was the question in my head as I stepped into the spacious lawns at Crowne Plaza, where the Bangalore Literature Festival 2013 was on in full swing. I walked into Mysore Park (Stage 1) in time to hear the moderator accusing William Dalrymple of being elitist. (Wonder how thatContinueContinue reading “BLF-2013: A balmy afternoon and some book-time”

My Body My Weapon

Kavita Joshi’s documentary ‘My Body My Weapon’ (2007) on Irom Sharmila’s relentless struggle for repealing the Armed Forces (Special Powers) Act, 1958. Ms. Sharmila is currently in the thirteenth year of her fast. (Source: http://kavitajoshi.blogspot.in)

For Ammoma

“Get a cup of tea for Unni,” she said. I checked the flask. It was empty. I had only brought two cups from the canteen anyway. “There’s no tea.” Two minutes later, Ammoma repeated her request, only more earnestly. “Jayasree, get some tea for Unni.” Jaya aunty walked to the counter, poured a glass ofContinueContinue reading “For Ammoma”

Frozen In Time

A wedding picture is a thousand stories in the making. One black-and-white snap with a lifetime to narrate is that of my mother on the morning of her wedding, her fawn-like eyes gazing at the camera lens. She was barely nineteen. Forced to drop out of college to take up the role of the eldestContinueContinue reading “Frozen In Time”

Far away there in the sunshine are my highest aspirations. I may not reach them, but I can look up and see their beauty, believe in them, and try to follow where they lead. – Louisa May AlcottDream Big. Always.

Winter Sun

It was cold. The sun a mere disk Of iridescent white; a moon against the morning sky No clouds. A funereal shroud Thrown afar, rooftop to rooftop Pigeons roosting on the satellite dishes Taking flight, twirling and swirling Crazed and confused. Eagles soaring; smooth and powerful, their outstretched wings Cutting clean the frigid air Knowing,ContinueContinue reading “Winter Sun”

The Wandering Acrobats

One Sunday afternoon I settled on the couch, adamant not to budge until I had penned something note-worthy. A bag of chips by my side and surrounded with a legion of journals, I puttered around in the ostentatious hope that something would ‘inspire’ me to write. My concentration was broken by the sound of drumbeatContinueContinue reading “The Wandering Acrobats”

Wildflowers

Wildflowers bound the wayside Thistle flowers and forget-me-nots No one watched them. They grew Of their own accord. No one cared. They willed themselves Into existence. Tenders shoots peeping out Feeding on the morning dew And the fire to meet the sky.