Tangled Hearts
Our hearts twist and turn their way through other people’s lives and leave behind wreckage and memories.
Lies, Lies, Lies
LiesSmall lies, white lies,Untruths, fabrications,Great deceptionsEasy, familiar wordsOr even none at all They must weigh somethingThe truth as heavy as it is, just won’t compareFor that lie stands,seemingly a smokescreenBut really a solid wallBuilt on the crumbling foundation of your face It sinksEver so slowlyDown from your eyes, into your…
I Wear: Suited & Booted
Here’s a post I’ve had in my drafts for a few weeks but not put up because I didn’t want to crowd the page with only pics of myself. It was meant to be my last hat-tip to the slight winter that Mumbai had this year. Now that summer is…
Ideart: Doga-Born In Blood
This is another of those posts I’ve been meaning to get around to for a good while. I painted this for the boy right after the success of Sabu. While the Diamond comics thespian provoked a soft chuckle, this piece got more of the reaction I was looking for –…
Unpleasant Reminders
Xion says that holding onto bad experiences is like watching a movie while thinking about the most disastrous film you’ve ever seen. But what do I do of the reminders?
A Good Catch
I met a young man last year who was smart, successful, charming and good-looking. He was also single and he explained why, saying, “There’s such a strong pressure on girls to land a good catch that I can never tell whether they like me for me or just because I’m…
How To Break Up
I read an article which touched a raw nerve. The article had tips on how to break-up while avoiding the discomfort of the whole process. Now, having gone through this so very many times, I can attest to the fact that practice does not make perfect. There is no easy…
I Wear: The Boheme At Kala Ghoda
The Kala Ghoda Art Festival is an event I look forward to all year. In the past few years, I’ve been covering the event for the Official Kala Ghoda Gazette. This year I had the privilege of conducting (in part) a workshop with my session on blogging. It’s been a…
Idiot Box
A box called an idiot runs my life.
Writers
Writers are sad people,
stewing in the acrid juices of their own guilt
frustration, shame, impotence
hoping to turn a spicy marinade or a fine wine at the end.