I have come back to Bengaluru for a while—long enough, hopefully, to continue understanding something of its temperament. It is a city that both fascinates and unsettles me: in the feel and fragrance of its air, in the interplay of its sounds and silences, and above all, in the restless energy of its people. ToContinue reading “Bengaluru in April”
Tag Archives: writing
The Unseen Orchestra
After months away—across continents and climates, through the tempered quiet of New York/New Jersey and the restless, choking urgency of Delhi—my return to Bengaluru has been, above all else, a return to sound. Not the sound of traffic or human industry, though those are never far, but something older, gentler, and far more enduring—the quiet,Continue reading “The Unseen Orchestra”
A light-Hearted Reflection of An Average Man on International Women’s Day (IWD)
For the average man, International Women’s Day is observed with admiration, respect—and a certain degree of carefulness. Today, the world overflows with earnest declarations, serious reflections, glorious tributes, and passionate advocacy. All of it is necessary and welcome. Yet every once in a while, it may also help to step back and view the day with a littleContinue reading “A light-Hearted Reflection of An Average Man on International Women’s Day (IWD)”
Who owns A Language?
A widely circulated interview between Elena Reyes, a Filipino professor of English, and a veteran British broadcaster James Whitmore did something quietly radical. In a few unadorned exchanges, it unsettled a belief so deeply normalised that it often goes unquestioned: that there exists a proper way to speak English, and that this propriety is bestContinue reading “Who owns A Language?”
Between Flights, Between Glasses
Airports are curious theatres of waiting. They are not quite places yet not entirely passages either—thresholds where the world pauses briefly before moving on. When I was in Helsinki, stopping over for a few hours on my way from New York to Delhi, that sense of suspension was heightened by the snow. It fell incessantly,Continue reading “Between Flights, Between Glasses”
By The Window, After Snow
The universe outside my window has been gentled into whiteness. Snow lies everywhere—on roofs, on branches, on the grass now indistinguishable from sky’s reflection—softening edges, quietening intention. In such weather, it seems almost instinctive to remain indoors, to honour warmth as one honours safety. Why would anyone willingly step out into this hushed severity unlessContinue reading “By The Window, After Snow”
Four Heads, One Tradition – The Generational Haircut
Is going to a hair salon still relevant—for men, for boys, for anyone at all? In an age of trimmers, mirrors, online tutorials, and the quiet confidence of self-maintenance, is the periodic haircut still a marker of civilised life? Or is it merely one of those habits we carry forward unquestioned, like shaking hands orContinue reading “Four Heads, One Tradition – The Generational Haircut”
Snow, Shovel, A Small Boy
I watched from the window as my nine-year-old grandson, Parth, stepped out into the freshly fallen snow, shovel in hand, as though answering a quiet summons. The driveway lay thick and white, unblemished, still wearing the hush of night. He was alone, valiantly so—scooping, lifting, pushing—his small boots sinking into the softness, his breath foggingContinue reading “Snow, Shovel, A Small Boy”
The Tyranny of Routine, the Seduction of Comfort
An Essay on How I Turn Every Vacation into a Mirror of Domestic Life Travel, they say, is meant to free us—from routine, from predictability, from the familiar tyranny of our own habits. It is meant to unsettle us gently, to loosen our rituals, to introduce us to novelty with a forgiving smile. umour, satire.This,Continue reading “The Tyranny of Routine, the Seduction of Comfort”
A Brief Tryst with Snow
I stepped out for a late afternoon walk on the roads of Short Hills, just after the land had been laid under a six-inch white carpet of snow. Overnight, the world had been quietly rewritten. Familiar streets, hedges, mailboxes, roofs, and lawns had surrendered their individual identities and merged into a single, dazzling expanse ofContinue reading “A Brief Tryst with Snow”
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