My Garden (Part Two)
My transformation into an avid gardener is a tough act to follow. I grew up in the urban jungle of Kolkata, a dirty, noisy, grey, and heavily congested metropolis. It was all brick, and mortar and concrete, and thinking about greens was a luxury.
From an Historian’s Notebook: Scratches on the Record
I was listening to a CD of an old Joni Mitchell album, and it soon turned out I was playing an awkward historian’s joke on myself. I had got to the song about ‘playing that scratchy rock and roll’, and had then noticed I was listening for the scratch. On that track, though not in the exact place of that lyric, on my father’s copy of the record, there had indeed been a scratch.
Home is Where the Soul Lives
I would often wander through the open front door and stand in the hollow rooms and gaze at the stains on the whitewashed walls where photo-frames of family portraits once hung.
Mumma’s Bindis (I)
Momo entered middle school that Fall, but Dadu never came back from that trip to India. The scrapbook that he had started for Ujaan from newspaper and magazine cuttings lay incomplete.
Bagful of Memories
These beautifully handwritten letters were lovingly kept aside to be read in solitude.
Kalkatta Chronicles Rear-View reflections– A Review
Supriya writes about her time growing in North Calcutta in a business Marwari family, with all its quiddities and typical cadences, but her experience is so universal that one can recognize the phenomenon as one’s own.
Of This & That : Nowadays It Is Different
These were some of my favourite things from yesteryears. Those were the days when Sreeram Arcade and Treasure Island (also near New Market) were yet to receive regular footfalls.
How Mothers Are Nature’s Return Gifts
When I hear the words grace or kindness or indulgence, the first person I think of is always my mother – however frustrating she might be to me, or I to her, for that matter! This poem traces my journey with her from the time I was just a little boy… It’s not a fact […]