Being around someone over a long period of time, the changes that have inconspicuously appeared in them owing to erosion by time, often go unnoticed. But once in a while, you go through the old photo albums and realise the person you are now living with is not the same as the one in those photographs shot over a 35 mm film years ago.
Tag: writing
The science, commerce, rituals and performances around Father leaving me
Part II: The Receipt to Collect the Flowers The traffic and the world around me stuck in it looks the same. Honking, crawling, lights turning red and green. Scooters and bikes trying to get ahead by forcing through a two feet space between cars, banging their side rear view mirrors. Or riding onto the footpath…
The science, commerce and performances around Father leaving me
Part I: It is a matter of the heart The BP monitor reads 80/60. I know it is low. ‘His Sugar is high.’ The Emergency doctor tells me. ‘How high?’ ‘It is Hi… Glucometer can’t measure it… beyond 600 it must be… Does he take medicines for Sugar?’ ‘Yes. He has been… regularly for many…
The lost songs of life
Twenty-two years had gone by making a life in a big, unknown city with a stranger. Being a mother, a homemaker, building a new home every two years. The jackfruit and guava trees; girly conversations full of laughter by the pukur; Mrs. Sanyal’s piercing look through her glasses; Manav Kaka’s sesame laddoos and ghoogni; Rajesh Khanna wooing Sharmila Tagore, all had faded into the grind and loneliness of the city life.
Facing emptiness by the river and the sea
The year was marked by deep emotional and physical emptiness, amidst reflections on life, family, and the futility of existence. Longing for liberation was countered by obligations and unresolved desires.
