Deep Ties

                                                                 The Social Rush “Once upon a time...” is almost always expected to end with “... and they lived happily ever after!” I remember sitting at my grandmother’s knee, staring at her expressive face, waiting for one wondrous tale to get over so that she could start another. Whether she spoke of Krishna and Sri Rama, or the Panchatantra, most of the stories ended happily, and I preferred them that way. Besides adventure, bravery and excitement, love too played a vital role, in making the stories dovetail into sagas of fulfillment. So I grew up with stars in my eyes, hoping to find the ideal man, despite all my mother’s frantic matchmaking efforts to divert my attention into more suitable, but definitely less exciting, avenues. When he finally walked into...

Credits: Col. Gopinath Menon The waves crashed on the rocks, a sound that Sudesh loved, as he sat feeling the freshness of the spray on his face. Voices echoed around him, and he could feel the vibration as people jogged along the beach, and his sightless eyes turned towards the movement. He had been coming to this spot for many months now, ever since he had shifted to Mumbai, after his mother had passed away.  The sound of the sea evoked a vision that he could only feel, not see. He could smell the delicious puris that Ram Prasad was frying, very near to where he sat. Every day the cheerful proprietor would look for a moment when there were few customers, and hand over a plate of piping hot puris and delicious potato curry to the gentle blind man who sat there, so young and so uncomplaining!                                                 ...

                                                                    thereviewsindia.co.in The colourful balloons soaring against a blue sky catch one’s attention at first sight, bringing the sense of joy that balloons always do. ‘A Skyful of Balloons’ is a novella by the erudite wordsmith, Santosh Bakaya, a story set in a sprawling bungalow in Raj Bagh, Srinagar, where the ebullient Priti lives with her parents. “She talked and talked. And talked Like a babbling brook outside her house, she babbled on. And on and on she went with a bright-eyed exuberance. But one day she turned quiet. Extremely quiet. The moon and the flowers no longer sent her into a tizzy.” The story is that of a boy and a girl, extremely close friends, whose conversations veer around poetry and literary allusions, painting an...

"And before long, the music, the views rushing past the window, my father's voice and the narrow cobblestone streets all merged             into one, and it seemed to me that while we would never find answers                 to these fundamental questions, it was good for us to ask them anyway." Orhan Pamuk Deepti had always been very close to her father, maybe because she was the eldest of three girls. Dad was an Army officer and hence, she had been brought up as an Army brat, travelling with her parents to various wonderful places in the country. Every two or three years, she would be uprooted, and weep buckets of tears as she left her good friends, who would promise to write to her. She had got used to living in two rooms, flats, cavernous bungalows, mansions with eighteen rooms and of course, in one room in the Officers' Mess. Her sisters were much younger, and they played together, fighting over...

                                                                           Pinterest “Ouch!” And that was it! My back decided to misbehave just as we were in the throes of packing, all set to move from Chennai to Kerala. It was not as if I had turned into a contortionist or anything like that. Oh, no, I was too smart to do that. And why, you may well ask! It was around five years back that, in the flush of youth (ahem! ahem!); all right, I take that back. Around five years back, when hues of lurid burgundy had taken over the black in my hair, I decided that it was time I turned towards a healthier lifestyle. What could I do to get there without too much of a struggle?                                 ...