Monthly Archives: March 2005

All my madness constantly revisits me. And much as I try to feed it Potatoes and Love It tries to eat me.

Or why walls breathe with poetry. Am I today’s graffiti And how somebody touched the name with two running fingers Or how a football came and bounced and was not as fisted as the bullet that lodged Little boy with … Continue reading →

On certain days something like the tip of a ball point pen keeps breaking the straight lines I attempt to draw And then instead of complete sentences or even thoughts Circular verse pours through.

Having jumbled the sequence of memories I don’t what came first Love for coffee Or my teenage angst.

This is what I learnt as a very young kid from my Grandpa. This was further engraved into my mind by my parents, who made me repeat it a few times. Vasco da Gama Went to a drama Without pyjama … Continue reading →

As a kid growing up in North India, in a time where Satellite television hadn’t quite chewed its teeth into our TV sets and brains, Tamizh movies were one of the ways to learn and be familiar with one’s roots. … Continue reading →

The more vague the incident, clearer the memory. (At times?) Had a Bengali dance teacher when I was about 8 or 9 years old. She was a strange nut. Taught the whole batch of 35 students or so the same … Continue reading →