Do you remember the time, not long ago, when people, at least here in Bangalore, formed human chains? When they had fancy stickers on the mudguard of their bikes, at the back of their cars, wearing black on a certain day while proclaiming their love and support for a man who they had never heard
long working hours and what not
I’ve been going through a stressed out time in my life, more stressful than usual and one of the things that generally bears the brunt during times like these is my blog. I’m intending to be back soon but the frequency of my posts may drastically vary. These stressed out times have been around for
The Traffic Slowers
I have been published by The Caravan Magazine. This month’s (February 2012) issue carries an article that I wrote for them. It’s a story about four guys, security guards in Bangalore’s Domlur area, who ferry passengers from one side of the road to another. I called the article, “The Traffic Slowers”, while Caravan preferred to
True to some instincts
I am trying a balancing act. Back in 2003 when I used to write more often and rant endlessly on my blog there were more readers than what I have now. Then some things changed, I started writing less frequently although I felt that the quality of my writing improved and as writers do, I
How do you support Mr.Hazare?
A few days after Anna Hazare’s now infamous April 5 Hunger strike, I saw a car, in the posh Koramangala neighborhood, with the sticker “I support Anna Hazare”. Instinctively, I wanted to run after the car, have a glimpse of the person behind the wheel and ask: Sir, how exactly do you intend to support
This culture of arbitrariness
From rediff’s article here, this quote: “I don’t understand why the president of this country, who is the supreme commander of the army, doesn’t issue orders to shoot people like Prashant Bhushan. Anyway, we, the people of this country have some responsibility and we will teach him a lesson.” I won’t quiz you around about
Back from a hiatus
A month and a half and this blog, this space has been just neglected by me. I’ll admit that there are numerous chains of thought that generate themselves in unintended writing breaks like the one I am just coming from. Some of them even question the very existence of this space. But, of the many