What happens when a lazy sloth of a human moves to a new city? She takes forever to settle down and get back into the groove. But when she does, things happen. Snippets of a new home; a new life: perhaps, the kinds that fits the image of a life by yourself so perfectly that it scares you a little in the beginning. To what the heart has always wanted. Of course, it did take longer than that to realize how certain things were a blessing in disguise.
Once in a while it is fair enough to be reminded of the sheer kindness about life; that nothing in life is as complicated as we have made it today and that the true joy of life remains in savouring the mundane, non-chalant moments. Life may be difficult, but life is kind too. August Pullman is a ten-year old living with his parents and sister in Upper Manhattan. His understanding of life is simple. He is a wonder but he is conscious of himself. A series of operations over the last decade has left scars on his face. Home-schooled all these years, his parents want him to go out and live his life. Hence the decision of getting him into a school. After all, how long do you think can he not accept himself. Little Auggie is resisting this change. His friends have not shown up too many times since they have left the neighbourhood. They have moved on, so must he. But somewhere in his head, it is a rigmarole of the same bunch of events. We know it isn’t going to be easy to shift gears and stand…
Sabitri was taken aback when she receives a call from Bela. A
desperate Bela called her mother for her daughter, Tara wants to quit college.
Thus begins a partly intriguing tale of these three women from three
generations. Sabitri hurries to find words to convince Tara. A few failed
attempts and she finds herself writing a version of her story that she would
not have imagined herself muttering to herself in her wildest dreams. Slowly,
the impact of her actions and decisions start reflecting in Bela's life and
once you have heard Tara, you will be convinced that life has been a vicious
circle for the family. The swift movement of the
perspectives is slightly confusing in the beginning but once the ball sets
rolling and you have a hang of the plot, it becomes a nice comforting read.
Perhaps the kinds where you are engaged in the storyline and the words just
flow. Mind you, the impact of the words isn't as fierce as Divakaruni's Palace
of Illusions. The voice is a wee bit meek…
Rumor has it that I am not the most positive person. I falter more often than you if not at every damn step. Every time I accidentally stumble on that odd piece of chair in the hallway, I curse until the pain goes away. But the other day, I noticed how remotely smallest things evoke nothing but sadness in you and how the pain in your eyes were much deeper than the physical pain my stupidity had inflicted on me. I mean, of course, its just me doing that to myself but hey, what's up with you? Trust me, when I say I have your best intentions in mind. It took me a while to understand that my real power are the words I write and not the words I speak. The gentlest whisper shall never be as soothing as the words I offer in writing. So here. Read this. Me, I can only hope that you find this when your heart is aching the most and my words shine like a tiny flicker at the end of the dark tunnel. I know, I know you said thanks and the fact that the battle is yours! But you know, I will be ri…
While my timeline is flooded with delicious pictures of assorted pakodas and equally scrumptious looking chutneys, the soothing melody of the raindrops on the lush green leaves and the concrete porch and the charming wind calls for slightly complicated flavors.
I have lived in western Odisha all my life. Contrary to the eastern half of the state where the humidity suffocates you, the western counterpart and its scorching dry heat drains the life out of your body. So while the crisp chill lurks in the air, it feels like it is finally time to pamper your taste buds. Weekends are for elaborate meals anyways. A plate of steamed rice with murer ghonto is pure bliss. Trust me, every bangal reading this would blindly oblige.
Early morning rains puts my mother in a very good mood. My culinary escapades take shape when she happily agrees to participate in the drill. This Sunday, when I woke up, she was sipping on her third cup of tea. She tries to maintain a straight face and declares that b…
While I try hard to stay put, to write till my fingers break, sadly, my commitments with my real life have left me here: almost forcing me to follow the conventional routine. It is tough to stick to a few things and confine yourself to just that. I have experienced this struggle since so long that it has begun to feel like I must make amends, introducing major changes in my to-do list that I got for my twenty-second birthday.
Do you remember how I wanted to scratch off items from my to-do list? One of them talked about getting a book blog. I am going to go ahead and scratch that to make a significant change. I am converting this place, my darling blog into an escape. It means that I'll be posting pictures from my impulsive escapades, self-indulgence in the form of hauls at the local markets, the new found love: finding clothes that suit me and what not. That even means that when my heart is brimming with anger or sorrows shall be poured out here too.
Clearly, it is going to one …