December 2012 ~ Musings and Lyrics

Lac-dye vows

She is too shy for comfort. At times, I can’t even find a way to start a conversation. At the most, she would nod, maybe a smile in her boldest days. Leaning against the door, gripping hard at the ends of her attire, she would twist the threads in nervousness. I can notice sweat trickle down her forehead, as she talks.

Morning walk

And I wonder:/ These heads popping out, their throbbing figures,/ Are they figment of my imagination?/ Do they gather just to make me realize/ I am no anomaly, a part of them, Possibly estranged.

Keats' a mirror, Keats' a mirage

Keats the person we know has been pictured through word-of-mouth...it remains amusing to me how an article read on Keats is almost always an article forgotten.

Sourav Ganguly is a threat to cricket writing

Ganguly in inertia for a moment and then his fall, one arm below his body, his cry of agony — provided a poetic moment for the lensmen and T.V audiences, but for us the writers, if we had written, we would have had to do with cliches like ‘aged warrior’ and ‘falling hero’.

The day I came to life

In the hour of midnight, when the Sun was busy preening itself in front of the mirror, and the Moon was preoccupied, flirting with the stars. I finally attained independence (at least that is what I thought) after 9 months in confinement, without any fault of mine.

Monday, December 3, 2012

Life is too Short

Posted by Unknown on 7:37 AM

Full version of the story appears in the Performance issue of the Motherland magazine

Photographs by Vivek Singh

The monsoon has arrived early, and as my car putters along the bumpy, muddy road, a cow tied to its tether gives me an uninterested glance. Three more bovines sit oblivious on the other side of the road, chewing cud as I pass. I give them about as much thought as they give me. Even the majestic scenery fails to register. I am far too preoccupied. I’m afraid I’ll be late. I’m on my way to meet the actor Akshay Kumar.

When I arrive at our appointment in Tangla, Assam, he greets me, shakes my hand, and before the interview he adjusts himself on a plastic chair, his legs dangling half a foot above the ground.

Read more: http://www.motherlandmagazine.com/performance-issue/life-s-too-short