Tangled Hearts
Our hearts twist and turn their way through other people’s lives and leave behind wreckage and memories.
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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…
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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…
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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 –…
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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?
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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…
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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…
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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…
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Idiot Box
A box called an idiot runs my life.
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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.
