Tuesday with a shoebox of memories

A Tuesday morning spent in the company of an old shoe box with even older letters and cards. This was written on a folded piece of paper by a friend who is a star herself. She was one of my early correspondents as I discovered how fragile and difficult adulting can be. Back then, the… Read More

Forgotten summers

There’s still a summer from long ago in my forgotten lane. It finds a voice in the golawala’s bell that rings loud around noon, the proverbial pied piper’s music and children tumble out from buildings, helpless to the sweet-sour tastes of his golas. His bottles line one end of the cart, a tantalising world of… Read More

A night of songlight

An old saree picture and a scribble for a Saturday Shakin Stevens is crooning because I love you, it must be from the house with the boy. It’s the radio playing, nice. I should play the radio too. Unbreak my heart now and Toni Braxton sounds soulful and sensual all at once. I slip out… Read More