m a n u s c r y p t s

Ankush Saikia

The name of the book, inspired by the Queensryche song, would suggest a female protagonist. In a sense there is one, but the narrator is a young student from Shillong, who arrives in Delhi in the second half of the 90s. While the story revolves around the eternal theme of love and longing, the uniqueness that’s brought in through the ethnicity of the narrator and the inherent simplicity in which the tale is told, makes it an interesting read.

Delhi almost seems like a character in the book, and the influence of Shillong on the life and attitudes of the narrator and his friends is also evident. The timeframe the story is set in, allows the dot com boom and bust, and the beginning of the BPO era to serve as backdrops. The subtle way in which the author points out the diversity among people in the North East, and their perspective on the way the rest of the nation deals with them, is also praiseworthy.

While the story primarily deals with the narrator’s relationship with Naina – a girl with a mysterious past, it also portrays two diverse personalities. The narrator is a small town boy, trying to make sense of life in a large city, and amidst the parties and the night drives, is grappling with the larger questions of his life ahead, still anchored to his hometown and the way of life there. The girl he is strangely attracted to – Naina, who refuses to divulge details of her past, wants to cut away from it, and moves ahead with a speed that leaves people close to her perplexed and lost.

Like I mentioned, the book has a simplicity that appeals immensely, the joys and apprehensions of the narrator is something that is easy to relate to. Laced with occasional humour and Floyd lyrics, this book is worth a read.

..comes a movie, these days, that forces me to write about it thanks to its mindblowing simplicity. Yes, that is a rare combination of words, at least for me.

I had hoped to watch Neelathamara when I’d gone home last, but was quite surprised to find that it wasn’t playing anymore in any of the theatres in Cochin. So, when it was released in PVR a fortnight back, I made it a point to book in advance, since very few Malayalam movies last beyond a week here. We had some drama off the screen, since Sreedevi Unni, who has a major role in the movie, was also in the theatre. Also, the entire title sequence was shown in split screen despite the traditional howling protests. Apparently the projection guy was busy with his dinner!!

In this age when the “poor girl meets rich boy and falls in love” theme is used mainly in film spoofs, it is perhaps impossible to imagine that this seemingly flimsy storyline can evolve into a movie that kept me spellbound for almost 2 hours. Neelathamara would translate to “blue lotus”, but as a character points out in the beginning of the movie, the flower in question is really not a lotus. But it does serve as a symbol of dreams, faith and perhaps, illusions too.

The movie is based on an original story by M.T.Vasudevan Nair, and was also made into a movie way back in 1979, with him writing the script. This is a modern retelling and the same author has made a few tweaks to suit a modern audience. Kudos to him for doing that but yet ensuring that the simplicity of the original story is retained. I couldn’t slot this movie into any pre defined movie category of mine. It didn’t make me think, it is definitely not timepass, it does not serve out dollops of comedy/drama/action and yet it affected me more than any recent movie has.

So what really was it that worked? There were a set of well written characters, who retained a certain integrity about themselves. Each of them were special in their own way, and not just the main characters, but the supporting cast too -Sreedevi Unni as the hero’s mother, Rima Kallingal as Ammini (after the urban woman in rithu, this character was a polar opposite, but handled well), Samvrutha as Ratnam in a neat cameo, the bhagavathar who never appears on screen, but whose music adds so much to the movie, the aashaan whose wise words about the nature of life remained with me, they all played a crucial part. The author also managed to leave a few things to the viewer’s imagination, giving enough hints to help complete the story. (Ammini’s story) Archana who plays the principal character of Kunjimalu steals the show with her subtle rendition. And though the hero is really no match, (erm, no pun intended, really) his portrayal of a character whose interest in the girl is at best a distraction, is quite genuine.

The songs are absolutely fantastic, and while sublime in themselves, also manage to take the storyline forward. This would be my favourite.

The movie runs at its own pace, and yet never managed to bore me. A lot of it had perhaps to do with the way it has re-captured a rustic Kerala setting from a few decades back. The temple, temple pond gossip, aalmaram conversations, they seem a world from long ago, simple and almost self sufficient. I think that’s just it. While I was born in a city and lived all my life there, the world the movie is set in, is one I am familiar with, thanks to vacations and temple visits. The movie was a journey in time, and more than a place and time, it was a way of life. It rekindled a hope in me, that one day I’ll be able to go back to Kerala, and live in that state.. of mind.  Its a dream of simplicity, my very own neelathamara.

until next time,  if you haven’t done so yet, visit the spanking new home -- www.manuprasad.com

One of the other side effects (other than one’s own sides, that is) of having a Food Court almost next door, is that eating out is easily taken care of. And that’s why it took us quite a few weeks to unplug ourselves from ‘Crepe Connection’ and visit a new place.

‘Flambe‘ opened a few weeks back in Koramangala, opposite GK Vale, and above the Bata showroom – on the same road  (map) that has China Pearl, Vicky’s Tava Lounge, Oye Amritsar, The Esplanade etc.. Parking shouldn’t be too difficult, even for 4 wheelers since there are many side roads. Flambe has an a/c dining section as well as a terrace section. With the kind of weather Bangalore’s been having, we chose the latter.

It’s quite a pleasant setting, though the seats with a view of the road are clearly meant for larger groups. Also, some of the tables, though aesthetically appealing, lack a bit on functionality, since they are too low.

Over to the menu. Multi-cuisine meant that there was much choice. For starters, there are Nachos and Cheese Fritters, Corn & Cheese balls, Paneer Kalimirch, Achari Tandoor Mushrooms etc, priced at Rs.110, for the veggies, and for the meat minded, Chicken Satay, Crispy Lamb, Pahadi Murgh,Reshmi Kabab, Lahori Boti Kabab etc and seafood too – fish – lasooni fish tikka to fish fingers, calamari, shrimp, priced  between Rs.110 – Rs.320. The soup section, relatively, has fewer options – about 4 veg options, priced at Rs.60 and about 10 non veg options from the regular Hot & Sour and Chicken Shorba to the zuppa di pesce at Rs.70-110. There are a few salad options too, about 3 each in veg and non veg at Rs.70-140.

The main course starts with sizzlers and flambe options – veg, chicken and seafood in both cases. There are half a dozen sizzler options, priced at Rs.100-330, and 9 flambe options, at Rs.200-400. You also get other regulars like Stroganoff, enchiladas, fish’n'chips, a few pasta options. (Rs.110-270) Multi-cuisine means that these share the menu with sweet’n’sour vegetables, Methi Chaman, Hyderabadi kadai Subzi, Dal makhni etc (Rs.70-140) and Diced Chicken in Black pepper, Shredded lamb with onion and capsicum, Mutton Kolhapuri, Malabar fish curry, Goan prawns curry, Murgh Adraki etc  (Rs.190-320). To go along with that, there are quite a few rice and roti options. They also have a snack menu.

We went through all of that, while munching a plate of nachos, complimentary.   We finally chose a Brodo di Pollo, “a traditional italian chicken broth served on a slice of toasted bread”, to start with. I think they meant along with a slice of toasted bread, or probably not, because we got the by-two soup along with 1 croissant, which we erm, manually converted to by-two. But the broth was hot and tasty, with loads of chopped vegetables and chicken, though the taste did remind me a lot of Tabasco sauce.

For the main course, we both chose from the flambe section. D, because, well if the restaurant were named so, this should be the specialty, and me, because it seemed destined. Earlier in the day, i had successfully ‘flambe’d’ my tongue, though with hot chocolate, not alcohol. D ordered a Chicken Pepperonata, “a traditional italian roast chicken with pimentos, flambed with red wine”, and I asked for a Chicken Diane, “boneless grilled chicken and bell peppers flambed with brandy, served with mushroom and pepper corn sauce”. The flooring has two levels, and we were on the upper part, which meant that, though we could see it, the flambe-ing couldn’t be done near our table. That does take a bit away, I thought. Both the items were quite good, though they managed to give me 2 free bones in my dish. When I asked about what ‘boneless’ meant, the guy appeared clueless and mumbled ‘only two bones at the side’. D’s Pepperonata was mildly spicy and tangy, though she felt that the meat could’ve been cooked a bit more. But notwithstanding that, still a good dish. The Chicken Diane was done very well, with a strong pepper flavor that I quite liked.

There are a few dessert options, including Crepes and Banana Fritters, but we had a movie to catch, so we skipped dessert.

All of the above cost us just less than Rs.700, including service tax, and a service charge of 5%. The service is quite good and attentive, the ambiance is pleasant, and overall, a decent experience.

Flambe, #93, 5th Cross, 6th Block, Koramangala Ph: 41606888/89

In spite of the last post, I’m a bit ambivalent about Vir Sanghvi’s column.

On one hand, I am in complete agreement with the rebuttals that I have read – Lekhni, Amit, Rohit. Rational and well articulated.

And yet, over the years, that’s almost 7 of them, I can confidently say that blogger cliques have always been around. They may not have been formed with that intention, but over a time frame, many have developed that way, and this is a phenomenon I see on twitter too, where ‘followers’ tends to be taken literally. Will I name any? No, simply because they are cliques, and these days, cliques to mobs is a single click conversion. Heh.

Simplistically put, many news channels and newspapers started out as a means of expression. Those who produced good content realised that many were paying attention to what they had to say. They looked around and noticed that there were others of their kind too. Mutual acknowledgment was a bit difficult because of business considerations, but they still stuck together, broadly, in terms of stances towards issues. The adoption of the medium rose, bringing new audiences. Somewhere, the quality of content became iffy. Sometimes because it had become a business, and sometimes because the content creators lost objectivity and started dictating norms, because they believed their audience was THE only audience that mattered. Of course they had measurement tools. Heh. (Just a small detour to say that even media planners trash the TAM and IRS/NRS methodology, yes, go on, take a poll)

And then the web happened, and became a force to be reckoned with. It brought with it, blogs, which took less than 5 minutes to create. Some of the creators spent exactly that much of time. But others stuck on. Time and effort brought them recognition, and even some fame. They looked around, saw others of their kind. There were hardly any business consideration, linking to each other became the norm. The audience was being built all this while, and unacknowledged, a herd mentality too. Personal branding crept in. In many cases, the quality of content might have dropped with time – rehashed content using previously successful templates, link-baits, these are just online manifestations of things we see in newspapers and television. But though the posts were not as funny as they used to be or not well thought out, the audience stuck on, it was after all, a cool community to be in. There’s nothing wrong with it, its human nature to seek out kindred souls. The unfortunate part is the increasing intolerance for contra-views among many bloggers. You can see enough comment wars if you look around. At some point, perspectives became dogmas.

And then came twitter, and microbloggers. It became all the more easier – from the simple RT to #followfriday and lists, there are multiple tools available, to build audiences, and cliques. And as I’ve written before, we on Twitter are famous for mobs.

So,  my point is Mr. Sanghvi, relax. We’ve seen it all before, its only the medium that has changed. The people remain. This too shall give way to something else. If all goes according to the way it has before, in a few years, you can chuckle over post like yours by some blogger, who thinks someone in what is then the new media has been judgmental to a senior blogger. Heh.

Meanwhile, the good part is, the web makes content production and distribution very easy, so you can ignore people if you personally think they’ve ‘lost it’. You will always find a contra-voice, it might be brow beaten sometimes, but it exists.

until next time, sanguine

Read this, and come back.

I sit in the darkened hall, hoping this ordeal will be over soon. Vir is droning on. I am surprised that he expects this kind of drivel to be accepted by any audience, let alone appreciated. It seems to be a creation from some other era, when talking down to a dumb audience was the way to be, and everything would be lapped up, just because a star was articulating it.

These are times when intelligent content is supposedly the mantra, this is the age where the audience has learned of its power, and discovered means of expressing it. And yet, occasionally we do see Vir like stuff coming out, as though the ancient contents of the draft folder mistakenly got published. I’m sure they sold the tube rights first and will be guaranteed good TRPs, more so because the guys online who believe in representing themselves are sure to diss it. You know, content very seriously and self righteously done, but so bad and outdated, that consuming it becomes fun.

Oh, its over. The lights have come on. Damn, its not Vir, its Veer, at least, so say the end credits. But then, what’s in a name, eh? Though I do get irritated when someone spells my pseudonym wrong.

until next time, some really sanguineous stuff here

Not that I’m going to bore you with events from Y2K on, I have other stuff to do that with, but a decade can be a long time. And when there are events to add some perspective to that timeframe, it makes it even more poignant. That’s exactly what happened when, thanks to a get-together organised by batchmates, I realised that its been 10 years since we passed out of that place. (’passed out at’ is equally applicable, thanks to a few classes!!) What makes it fun is that while I got myself a degree, and so did D, she claims that she lost whatever degree of sanity she had before she crossed paths with me.

So, the place where we became er, engineers. I’ve always wanted that – Er, for engineer. Like Dr for Doctor. Er.Manu. Er, ok, let’s move on. Like the place has. While not entirely unrecognisable, its changed considerably. New buildings, better access roads, well maintained gardens. And they actually have speakers starting from about 200 m from the college, that play music to de-stress students. Just a vowel movement from our times of distress!! Hmmph.

The current batches were on vacation, which meant D and I could walk around and click away to our hearts content. We walked around the college campus with a few of our friends. Many of them are now responsible parents – mostly to toddlers. Kids who are too young for me to tell them that I have seen his/her father in the same state, if not age. Toddy tales for toddlers are perhaps not a great idea. So we talked about teachers and papers and cricket matches and strikes. Memories were rekindled, legs were pulled, tall claims made about the life and times from more than a decade back.

And just so that I can come back here and revisit the road once traveled, here are a few snapshots.Walk with me

Since there are no shortcuts to success, there is no lift, and we used to have many classes scheduled right on the top floor. It also meant that teachers took longer to reach the class, and students got themselves an excuse to loiter. And so it was, that when a teacher was spotted beginning the long climb, an announcement was made by whoever happened to be surveying the scene. Usually the teacher’s nickname was used.

Surveying. Right at the basement was our department’s preferred source of dehydration. So more people passed out than passed thanks to the heat. During exams, we were tested by being asked to find the distance between two inaccessible points. Since in reality, they were accessible, kids figured ways to actually measure the distances so that they knew the answer. That made it even more difficult, since many had no idea how to arrive at that answer on paper.

Workshop. One of the 2 papers in 4 years that made me re-appear for an exam.  For D, the only one. I liked metal, but the damn thing refused to be filed away. I appeared the next year with a wooden smile. I got a block of wood this time. Everything dove tailed into place.

Learned of love and ABC’s,

It wasn’t really all work. Our sports ground. Weekends were the main periods of activity, and since I used to hop on to a Cochin bus every Friday evening, I seldom played. The building on the left was my hostel in the third year, and the one on the right in the final year. We got single rooms in the final year. I still remember the ‘Sifar’ (Lucky Ali) poster on my door, with the picture of an open palm. Ironically, I was an SFI member (student wing of the Communists), as opposed to the KSU (the Congress’ student wing, sharing its symbol)

skinned our hearts and skinned our knees.

The corridor that has heard my voice many many times. Shouting slogans. Trying to out-shout my counterpart in the opposing party. And the singing, since the auditorium was here too. Two worlds, two voices, both sound asleep now.

And thanks to the first set of activities, I was called to this room occasionally. The principal’s. At one time, we had the entire batch sitting in front of his room because he wouldn’t let us go to Goa for our study tour. He also happened to be a schoolmate’s father, which made me feel rather guilty whenever I cracked jokes/made slogans at his expense.

And every time that I was down

Another place of great intrigue. I have only gone beyond this gate once. Into the building that is, not the other way. This is the LH – Ladies Hostel. The one time I went in was during the election campaign. And I was made to sing. Who suffered more, is just a matter of perspective.

Apparently other souls used to surf around much more frequently. Once someone climbed on to this building’s terrace and dumped washing powder into their huge water tank. Since the water was also used for cooking, the tank had to be emptied and cleaned, so the entire batch got a few days of leave.

And when I was not making a fool of myself singing, I was playing Dumb C. This is the place where we won a Dumb C competition at the college for the first time. We even cracked the Dumb Dumb C round, which was still a novelty then.

And when I wasn’t busy with all the other stuff, this is where I could be found, in the classroom. We couldn’t go in this time, the room was locked. But thankfully, so are the memories.

I wish that we could both be there.

We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun.
But the hills that we climbed
were just seasons out of time

They said D and I hadn’t changed much. Oh, but we have, I wanted to say. But I smiled, because I was still wondering how, when, and why. The college still poses difficult questions, but there’s a degree of comfort in knowing that life and I can move on, sometimes even without answers.

until next time, snap out

I’m quite a huge fan of Sherlock Holmes. If you remember, schools had this process in which one student was asked to read from the textbook, and another had to start from where he left off. Though most teachers went along a row, some smart ones picked random students. In Class 8 when ‘The Hound of the Baskervilles’ was part of the syllabus,  I was once so engrossed in reading ahead that i got a ‘Get out of the class’. No, the teacher wasn’t really evil, I think i might have irritated her by pronouncing it as ‘hoond’ and then, when corrected, asking whether i could say “Howston, we have a problem.”  So yes, though M in ‘The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen’ happens to be Moriarty, Holmes’ arch enemy, and it might be played by Brad Pitt soon, I am a huge fan.

And so i was quite disappointed not to be able to catch ‘Sherlock Holmes’ in the cinema hall in the first week because we were shifting homes. But fate had a mystery in store for me. The curious incident of the dogmatic nozzle in the night time. I can explain, and will.

We managed to bring a semblance of order to the place quite late. The toilet attached to the main bedroom had not been explored much, until then. And when we did, we discovered this strange arrangement.

What do you mean what’s wrong. Its leftist. Doesn’t it strike you that the damn nozzle is on the wrong side? Not a good thing to discover when one is erm, pooped. Since the nearest tap was relatively far, we didn’t have lota options.  I have to add – the limited length of the nozzle pipe meant that  if you did try using it, i guess the twists and turns required would  make you feel a bit like the sari donned Draupadi in the Mahabharata!! Actually in the end, you’d feel like Dushasana – edge of the seat stuff, but you have a headache and still cut a sorry figure. After several minutes of discussions with D, that’s the wife not Dushasana, we realised that we had our backs against the wall, figuratively and otherwise, since the engineer wouldn’t help us out that late in the night. And that’s when I remembered Holmes’ famous admonition – “when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth”

And that’s how I told D that if she wanted to use this loo now, she would need a paradigm shift. I suggested an option that looks like the one on the top in the image below, facing the wall.

She said “What crap. Sometimes you really go potty ”

Ha. Toilet humour, the last resort. I wonder if I should say that for the post too? And that would once again make me the butt of the joke.

until next time, alimentary tracks, my dear Watson?

There is this habit I picked up from my dad – of unfailingly writing down the daily expenses. From experience, it is an excellent way of financially disciplining oneself, and that is my account book’s raison d’etre. But over a period of time, it has become a cherished belonging for a different reason. This December, when I close the month’s accounts, I will finish the book’s 160-odd pages. Each month, on an average, takes about 2 pages, and now you must have guessed why it is special. It chronicles the days of our life – D’s and mine, in the form of expenses, for the past 6+ years.

As I flip through the pages, I can see in my mind’s eye, snapshots of our life , from April of 2003 – our 10 year old Kiney getting repaired, for the umpteenth time, pleading for moksha, the dinners at the now non existent restaurant in Koramangala we used to haunt, the shopping at the then favourite brand Weekender, the old phone booth STD calls, because mobile rates were too high, the jackets we bought for the surprisingly cold Bangalore rains, the much awaited trips to Kerala, the doctor visits in the first December in Bangalore because of a cough that just wouldn’t let go, the Rs.12 haircut, browsing at the nearby internet cafe, the friendly neighbourhood Mallu store, the first visit to Barista and the nervousness due to the unfamiliar surroundings, CDs from the library nearby, Archies cards for Valentine’s Day, and cakes for birthdays. The area around JNC in Koramangala as the preferred cloth shopping destination.

The first mall experience courtesy Forum, end of CD lending, and the rise of PVR. Foodworld – which meant that the local Mallu store was slowly forgotten. Landmark and the continuing era of book shopping, the thrill of owning a computer, of having to explain why it still made sense without internet, floppies, chaats on the roadside, our first Strand book sale, and the joy of having bought so many books. The discovery of Megamart and budget shopping.

The boredom with Barista and the testing out of Coffee Day and Coffee World for a different experience, the discovery of Corner House and surviving a December without the need for a doctor, the ascent of the credit card, the discovery of instant Dosamix, the first digital camera, the Exercycle, the feeling that the Strand book festival was no more really value for money, and the shift to a new neighbourhood, and new jobs. Insurance premiums and mutual funds. The Fab India era.

Vacations. Buses giving way to trains to low cost flights. Making a visit to the Strand sale only because tradition demanded it, and because I had the feeling I would be able to complete my ‘Foundation’ collection this time, Tata Sky, and Thoms bread. The friendly neighbourhood theatre and late night Mallu movies. Broadband at home. Bangalore Central and Indiranagar 100 ft Road as  preferred shopping destinations.

The beginning of the Blossoms addiction, the return to Koramangala, Star Bazaar and the 10 pm movies at PVR. Morning Yoga classes. D’s hep life and the end of roadside chaats. The death of low cost flights. Apollo clinic and the return of the cough. Blog hosting and domain registration costs. Lifestyle as preferred shopping destination. The return of Fab India – for curtains and sheets….. and we’re almost in the present..

These were samples, each date has a storyline, many of them forgotten, some still fresh. An offline lifestream, a treasure trove of memories, that helps me take stock and converts what could’ve been mundane into an important part of life. As days pass into months and years, we have changed, perhaps seamlessly, but with the book, it is easy to see how and when it happened, and when one sits down and thinks, it is easy to figure out the why too.. Gradual changes to set patterns and cycles. I realise I miss many of those things, places and routines. At the beginning of 2010,the vision is still perhaps half perfect, but when I turn back time through these pages, it is good to see the distance we have traveled, and to note the things that haven’t really changed.

I will entrust the book with my other travel companion. They belong to the same category and will feel a sense of  belonging with each other. And as I wrote the expenses of December 31st 2009, and ended the year, I wondered if this dear book, if it could speak, would have something to say like Edie Britt in her farewell episode

As I looked down on the world I began to let go of it……. I let go all those things which seems so ordinary but when you put them together they make up a life.

until next time, figures of speech

In an earlier post – “Brood Mode“, I’d written about expectations, and how sometimes, they cannot be met. In the context of that post, Austere had commented thus “Is it the instant-ness demanded of the response that puts one’s brain to a side?” I messaged her on Twitter, that ‘the time construct’ was something I’d planned to write on next.

Our response time has been shrinking on a continuous basis, twitter, FB etc are a manifestation of that – real time, but the changes have been happening much before that, probably with every advancement we made, not just in communication, but even things like transportation. So, the thought is, if we had more time on our hands, would we be behaving differently with people?

When I was chatting with Meeta recently, we started discussing this, in the context of relationships with people. It started with me saying that the traffic during the daily commute to work, made me forget all the rules I make for myself, because with all the lane cutting and parking woes, its easily a scenario in which you’re either aggressive or you end up on the road, literally. So I wondered if it would be different if there were no time constraints.

Despite only a superficial similarity, I was reminded of another construct – money. What started out as a tool of convenience has enslaved many and managed to dictate their actions. Much like the things we create to crunch time. The similarity ended there. Time is not money. Quite obviously, time exists with or without us, though the latter can force one to ask “Who does it exist for then? So let me put it this way, it is a construct that’s still not fully understood, whereas we made the money construct. But for the fun of it, imagine what you would’ve done if your life wasn’t dictated by time. What if you had all the time in the world. Would you be a different person? Would you behave differently with people?

As it regularly happens these days with me- by sheer coincidence, the day after I had this discussion with Meeta, I came across this work from Hugh MacLeod, which puts it so well

until next time, timed out for a fortnight

The second edition of Penguin’s annual anthology, this one has poetry in addition to fiction and non-fiction.
There are 11 works of non fiction, though some of them, I thought, would have made more sense in the fiction set!! My favourite would have to be Arunava Sinha’s “Apna Desh, Apna Blog”, the evolution of a blog and the blogger, more so because I could easily identify with it. His wit is evident not just from the piece, but also in the ‘Notes on contributors’. Dilip D’Souza’s “Night in the city”, ‘an ordinary Bombay story’ is also a good read, that reflects not just contemporary society, but also its sense of law and justice.

“Roy’s quest”, by Samrat Choudhury is a cute read about a schoolboy’s crush. “Family”, by Salman Haidar and “Delhi’s last conquerors”, by Ranjana Sengupta give us great glimpses of history.

A dozen works of fiction, and picking a favourite in this section is more difficult. So we’ll go in the order of appearance. “Karim”, by Anushka Ravishankar is an excellent take on organised religion, and its effects on daily lives, as seen from a child’s perspective. “An Indian Porn director’s speech to his hesitant leading lady”, by Altaf Tyrewala is bizarrely hilarious. “Luck” by Dhruba Hazarika is also an interesting read about a pigeon called Luck and the changes it brings about in its owner’s life. “Stupid”, by Sonia Faleiro is another good read with a neat pragmatic/cynical/sad ending.

If I had to choose a favourite, it would be C.Sriram’s “A matter of faith”, which deals with the mystery of existence, and how we adapt it in accordance with our own needs. “Mrs. Anand”, by Manreet Sodhi Someshwar is a touching piece that captures the different roles that a woman plays in a family and society, the losses she quietly accepts, and the brief moments of understanding from another person that allows her to give in to her grief and shed a few tears. The last work of fiction is from Kanishk Tharoor (yep, not a very common surname ), its interesting in a unique way.

You’ll have to look elsewhere for the poetry review, because that’s something I’ve never been able to relate to.