BOOK REVIEW: The Guide – RK Narayan
Because of the Bollywood associations, I was worried that ‘The Guide’ would disappoint me when other RK Narayan works had delighted.
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Because of the Bollywood associations, I was worried that ‘The Guide’ would disappoint me when other RK Narayan works had delighted.
I’ve been thinking about dignity. I do, a lot, especially when I feel I’ve not been dignified. I haven’t felt it lately because I haven’t felt in control of anything. But dignity isn’t about control, is it? I realised that most of my emotional decisions were trauma reactions. It wasn’t…
August, Leo month, brought me back to life, piecing together from debris, things I’ve never owned.
When you go long enough turning scars into art, you start thinking of wounds as poetry. And the cacophony of imaginary voices, as the orchestra of your soul. You seek out people who call you beautiful when you bleed. People who willing aid you in that process, a little too…
Does anybody remember Sincerity? She hasn’t been seen in a long time. We read about her in Moral Science textbooks. We co-opted her name in the style of the (insincere) British as we learnt to sign letters. Sincerely, Yours. Sincerity was never in vogue. He’s come in under attack by…
I looked up the meaning of ‘brutalise’. I discovered it means two things.1. To make brutal2. To be brutal And everywhere I looked, the first came with more explanation. We assume the quality of brutality is not inherent in people, that it is caused by having experienced such behaviour oneself….
I don’t think I grasped that a new normal would have to be a new idea of normal. I don’t know if I’ll ever travel by junta public transport again, the second class compartments, the trains & metros. By the time it may be safe to, I may not physically…
We are raw from sharp experienceCarrying knives of words& chisels of pain My jealousy is smoothly curvedAnd you stick pinpoints of insight into itLeaving them to harden overnight Then, as I ripple its edgeswith vulnerabilityYou fill the holes with trust I chip away at your craggy, unformed notionsAnd sand-blast the…
My calling card is a color. One dab gives you a peek into a thousand stories, my stories. Ugly Duckling. SlumdogCinderella without a Fairy Godmother. Poor thing. Wear dark colors, the fashion mags advised. So I sat in navy, black & grey boxes. You’re ugly, he said, the pretty girl’s…
How can we truly understand trust until we learn to trust ourselves?