What does a chuckle at a crime scene do? An anecdote slipped into an interrogation being done for a murder (or two, or more)? It heightens the senses, I realized, after reading this book, and one looks for the clues with an even keener sensorial wand. Because you see, a least expected thing in a … More A family that kills together, sticks together
Katabasis – A journey to the underworld, to Hell. It was supposed to take me in, get me hooked. It was supposed to present me a world from where my eyes wouldn’t tear off. A world where wild things happened, unannounced. A precipice that threw me into vertiginous depths wherein everything was alien, sterile black, … More A rewarding journey to Hell
While discussing this book with my friends, one thing emerged clear – there were threads too many, and they all jumbled up. Not for me though. Nope. The threads are meant to jumble up, they are meant to be sharp enough to cut the reader’s line of thought, they are woven with the sly intention … More And then, there were four!
Imagine a town. An alley in it. Houses lining the alley on both sides. You get a peek into each one of them. And find the same story. Different versions but same story. Man in control; woman, his vehicle. He owned her, rode her, flaunted her, pushed her and upgraded to a modern version when … More Small acts of resilience in a tainted alley
Let’s just say that I shall never stop reading Murakami, just how I shall never stop climbing over the fences of this world to steal a peek into a world that was or could have been. No wonder I found a friend in the protagonist of The City and its Uncertain Walls. In love once … More Life on a rhapsody of memory and magic
Somewhere in the middle of this loosely drawn, pencil-shined sketches, sits an instance in which Adrian Tomine, a fair figure in the cartoon industry, is at a book fair in Tokyo and is about to scribble, in palpable excitement, his first autograph of the day when he notices the book slipped under his fingers carrying … More Tonnes of goofiness, handed with a bow
Orbital. A book I lived with for many days and nights. And then for periods I couldn’t make sense of – between rush runs and garrulous concalls, between silent dreams and chaotic honks, between pressured cabins and blinding night-lights. But I held it tight under all circumstances. Because it had become a friend. Across its … More View (and spirit) from Space
It was your year of last things,but you were luminous,within those final fires. LAST. Such an enormous word. So deep that one may spill an entire lifetime between its spaces and remain bereft of any desire to add a single extra syllable during their remaining time ahead. A bracket that holds the precious and the … More Of youth journals and parallel lives
Until August. Like a run towards a time of the year. Like in waiting of something. Something that can leave the person changed despite the alteration unfolding in the minutest of fibers that resides agile and hidden under layers of commonplace fibers of the human body and scarcely asserts its position in the quotidian existence. August … More The Last Night, in August
In the recent years, a realization has dawned on me – the loudest of essences comes from the quietest of people; it is to say that those who do not give away words for a trifle, give words to matters that are substantial, and these very words invariably tend to ring long after they have … More Quiet Power of Right
SEEMITA DAS 