Conversations at Midnight, With a Fiercely Independent Woman

My typically Bengali girlfriend, brings to the table, decades of organic and traditional formulae – passed on to her by her mother, and to her mother by her grandmother and so on – like intergenerational letters, written in ink on parchment – replete with the emotions of decades – that have become a part of…

All Things New

Like every other Bengali child in the colony, I was handed a box of crayons the moment Igrasped the fundamental art of holding my neck straight.My ungodly screams in the middle of the night made a lasting impression too, as I was sent off to learn the ropes of Rabindra Sangeet before I could say…

About Magic and Second Chances

There’s something incredibly enchanting about a wintry midnight, when a city is drowned in slumber. There’s something hauntingly beautiful about the golden streetlamps that hover over the expressway – like tall, sun kissed trees that have weathered centuries of storms and decadence – as the world around them grows into silence. There’s something magical about…

The Trouble with Flirting while Driving an Auto

Let’s face it, women are quite stupid, really – still bowled over by adulation, kind words and poetry. A very wise man once told me, “Consultants are people, who look at your watch and tell you the time.” As it turned out, he was quoting his father – very much like a consultant. Given my…

Imagine Us

Imagine, The two of us Sitting by the twilight The crackle of timber Flares like fireflies That explode in mid-air A shower of ice and fire Melting into the darkness   Listen, to the river That breaks gently On the muted rocks You can hear the sound Of a thousand different stories Voices, memories and…

About Sleeping In

Despite our well-intending parents’ commendable efforts to inculcate in us the good old fashioned Indian values of waking up in the morning and contemplating our pointless existences, (every time our neighbour’s late rottweiler began to howl,) my sister and I turned out to be quite the opposite. Our defensive mechanisms were quite remarkable, so to…

Best Friends

She wore a beige sweater and a navy blue skirt, and her hair was neatly tied into a bun. She sipped at her coffee, occasionally flicking through the magazine and tapping away noisily on her crimson phone. For the seventeenth time, the waiter smiled at her – she glared at him, while pretending to read…