A Mouthful Of Heaven
Crisp, crunchy puri made of maida, not sooji.
Thick, clotted tamarind-date chutney, sweet and sour both at once.
Chilled, green, spicy mint water
A handful of mashed potatoes, boiled watana & white chana.
I could die happy.
Crisp, crunchy puri made of maida, not sooji.
Thick, clotted tamarind-date chutney, sweet and sour both at once.
Chilled, green, spicy mint water
A handful of mashed potatoes, boiled watana & white chana.
I could die happy.
I went on just one date in February. It felt familiar but not identical. I had had a date a lot like this one, over 12 years ago.
This evening I saw the movie ‘Little Miss Sunshine’. It reminded me of another girl who kicked ass not so long ago.
I painted the Mumbai skyline on an old pickle glass bottle.
The first time time I read ‘The Last Chance Saloon’, I didn’t like what it did to me. Which is not to say that I didn’t like it.
What are traveller’s tales but our maps to our selves?
Like every good Mumbaiker, I would spend about an hour and half commuting to work each morning. Once I got in, I’d perch on my chair, waiting for my colleague to arrive. She’d walk in about 10 minutes later, switch on her computer, rearrange her desk and give me a…