Tag: writing
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THE (UN)NICENESS OF FANS
Some months ago there swirled a warm debate among a few of my author friends. Now that its chaleur has died down, I reflect again on its elements. It all began with the premise that celebrities may not be inclined to indulge their fans every single moment. They too have their off days when they…
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THE DIWALI THAT WAS
There is something resoundingly vibrant about festivals at home, each characterised with its own unique celebration and its own quotient of enthusiasm and fervour. And while the calendar marks every month with reasons to celebrate, the one festival I look forward to the most has always been that spectacular one of lights, Diwali. Its near-week…
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On Growing Older
My husband and I slipped into our senior citizenship some years ago. Yes, we are officially older than that comfortably nebulous category of middle-age though we may fight shy of regarding ourselves as properly old. Well, I don’t feel old, I don’t think old either. Of course, my body may contend otherwise, but my mind tells me that I am as sharp and sprightly as ever. Anyway, we marked the occasion quietly, without too much ado, and then carried on much as…
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In Transit
It’s peculiar though paradoxically perfectly ordinary being in two places at the same time. Seated in an airplane that wings its way over the lands and oceans that separate my daughter’s place from mine, my mind straddles both worlds seamlessly. I look out of my little window and take in the ambiguous light filtering through…
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NO COUNTRY FOR WOMEN
The past couple of months have been especially good for me. Plenty of interesting reading and ruminating, yes, but also simmering excitement about some eagerly awaited news, some personal happy tidings and immense familial joys. My cup runneth over. Of course, the world around and beyond isn’t exactly a happy one and some of its…
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PRATIMA!
She was my laughing Buddha. Nearly seven years older than me, she never made me feel that distance. She was wiser, kinder, yes, but she was also infinite fun. Always eager for a joke, finding humour even in the most prosaic, turning a word, a person, a situation on its head and cracking up at…
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OH, TO READ!
I am an inveterate reader. Committed, addicted, insatiable. I come from a family of readers. Growing up at a time and place where television hadn’t reached us yet leave alone the powerfully addictive internet, reading was my window to the world. We siblings would quarrel about who had first claim to a new book, wait…
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On GRIEF
This I know. Grief is hard. It hurts, it overwhelms, it suffocates. From the moment it appears, it seeks to settle in. A nebulous entity at first, unformed, unknown, unarmed. That slowly begins to feed on us, our mind and memories, our love, loss and longing. Then growing at its own pace, on its own…
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THE DUTCH HOUSE by Ann Patchett: A REVIEW
Everyone’s been raving about Ann Patchett and her fabulous books. A few years ago I had heard of her Bel Canto, how well-received it was, making waves in literary circles, and I had marked the book down for a later read. But then I recently picked her The Dutch House instead, trusting my instincts of trusting an old school-friend’s recommendation! The avid and discerning reader that she is, I often blindly follow her suggestions. And I was amply rewarded. What a page turner!…
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O YE, OF LITTLE FAITH
I was born and raised a Hindu, embedded with a moral compass that drew largely from the Hindu religious tradition, given its pointers to the good and wholesome way to live my life, the virtues to imbibe and vices to eschew. I grew up among friends and neighbours, a mix of many religions among them:…