attia hosain (1913-1998) – the sunlight on a broken column

We were from two extreme ends of the social spectrum. She, landed aristocracy. Me, respectable middle-class, at best. We also had 52 years between us. I met her when she was at the end of her long, eventful life. She was 83. She was articulate, gracious, full of words. Her voice, girlish and musical. Her laughter tinkling. Her curiosity untarnished. I didn’t see her as … Continue reading attia hosain (1913-1998) – the sunlight on a broken column

Dastak (1970) – or the knocks of life

‘Dastak’ (Rajinder Singh Bedi, 1970) makes me think of my parents, as they must have been when they were newly married. When ‘Dastak’ came out, my parents had been married for a decade, and I was 5 years old, but the world that ‘Dastak’ is set in and that my parents inhabited had not changed much in that time, the area around Bombay Central Station, … Continue reading Dastak (1970) – or the knocks of life

this could only mean that you are totally vella

Who are the people at Juhu beach on a Thursday noon? 1. Couples. Mostly young. Young couples find the time to go everywhere. 2. Still photographers. Holding up open albums with big photos of smiling people. I feel sorry for them. There are too many of them, and too little work. Who asks to have a photo taken in this day of smart phones? Every … Continue reading this could only mean that you are totally vella

this ullu wants to be an owl

Last night, outside a friend’s house, an owl was stuck in a tree. The boys playing volleyball on the street called the fire engine. The fire officers parked the engine outside the gate just as we drove in, and marched in purposefully ahead of us. The owl hung like a bedraggled sepia tinted kite by the tip of its wing, a remnant from Uttarayana. We … Continue reading this ullu wants to be an owl

waking up

I have been watching films. Reading. Living, sulking, spending, brooding. Christmas, New Year. Comings, and going away. Travelling, being nowhere. The clamor did not bode well for melodies. I stayed away from the computer screen. It demanded too much coherence. I felt flimsy. This morning, then, there is a tune. I don’t go to the window to look for the flute-seller. It is enough that … Continue reading waking up