Torn Between Blood and Snot
Love is not always good for your health. You see, I love my city. Actually, I recently had a crazy fling with Goa. You might point out that I cheated on steady old Benglur, but that was only a one time thing. It didn’t mean anything. I got carried away. I still love Benglur. But turns out, even though I have spent all my life (minus the time in Coorg, Manipal, Chandigarh and Goa) in the old metropolis, I still won’t get used to this weather. What is your problem, Mother asks, people from all over the country come here for the damn weather and you can’t stay in it. Well, she didn’t actually use the D word, but I added it to make the statement more dramatic

On Benglur Roads – Part II
You know how it is. You are flying good times; then you are pulled down to insipid grounds, unpleasant jerk like. You mumble grumble tch-tch to get back to the good place. A week later, what with this and that, you sort of accept things as they are and say Right Ho to real life.   Allow me to illustrate. Last Wednesday, I looked through the glass wall of my office and saw at the stretch of land below me. Hey, where did all the hills and mountains go, why is the horizon so plain, I wondered. I also wondered why there were suddenly so many buildings. A nano second later, I realized I was in Benglur City now and had left Goa behind 10 days ago. Heart-breaking it wa

Familiar Novelty
(I wrote this piece, if piece is the word I want, two weeks ago; when I was still living in Goa. I don’t know why I did not publish it. Sorry for the anachronism.) The much-abused FabIndia kurta finally decided to call it a day after wearing itself out in the Achar service for 3 years. It tore itself prrrrr on the nearest rusty nail, thereby bringing back the said Achar from a reverie. Oh oh, I thought. But the tearing of kurtas seemed like a matter of little importance in this magical moment. In fact I wondered how I even heard the prrrrr given all the thundering of the skies, sloshing of water and the grinding of the engines. I was stand

Another Earth Year Goes By
I turned another year older yesterday mid-night. In an old portugeese house-turned-club near Baga, Goa. While the band sang Let it Roll, Baby Roll, my birthday was celebrated by people known to me for less than a month. There were a bunch of college students sharing a joint (ridiculously trying to pretend that it was a nicotine one) and two old men enjoying rock with their Diet Pepsis.  Afternoon, I came back home to Benglur. Parents gifted me a boquet and the ever-creative brother gave a handshake. The evening was spent quietly lighting earthen lamps and arranging them. Contrasting half-birthdays apart, I have learnt one thing in life: Always, always, m

Snatches from a Sample of 12 hours in Goa
8.30PM, Some Super-market, Panjim There is this young woman standing at the chocolates section and offering sample chocolates from a tray. These are nut-based and these are liquor-based, she points out different choices. She is Sarita, from Mumbai (or Delhi, I forget which) who, at 32 has decided to retire and settle in Goa. Through our conversation I discover that her idea of ‘retirement’ is to have left her career behind and started a chocolate making business here. There are two super markets in Goa that stock her chocolates and she stands there in person on weekends to sample and promote her stuff. “My husband is a seasoned scotch drink