Gwalior Days

Indian Summer, is usually not half as beautiful as the song in its name. And it is often the perfect recipe for mirages, even hallucinations. It is infamous, in the villages and small towns of India, for making people lose sanity. Everybody I saw on the streets that day, had a white cloth wrapped around…

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Cliché

Yun na mil mujh se khafa ho jaisay Saath chal, mauj-e-sabaa ho jaisay [Meet me not in anger, beloved, Walk with me, like the morning breeze walks with spring] Φ A Mehdi Hasan rendition of the famous, Ehsan Danish ghazal, playing from a vinyl record, whitewashed walls, indoor plants, a carved lamp-stand, with a shade to…

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J’ai Oublié

‘J’ai oublié’ is a phrase I picked from an adorable movie called Hiroshima Mon Amour. Here, I’ve taken bits and pieces of insights about memory and its fickleness, that I’ve come across in films, in literature and in real life. Some credit goes to an elegant old lady of 82, Mrs. Banta Singh, who I met in Chandigarh once. She is the inspiration for this story.

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Skardu

It was snowing and the mighty Karakoram were hidden by this soft, deceptively gentle rain of white flakes. I had a feeling that we are on a wrong trail and very likely lost. What if it snowed for days?Would I die here, of snow? Evidently, I am an expert at prematurely conjuring up death scenarios…

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