‘Your mother-in-law is responsible for your husband’s sperm velocity. It’s got to do with genetics,’ the doctor says.
‘I thought the sperm had no choice,’ she inquires, ‘isn’t the egg mighty and the sperm one...
A virtual route of creative and cultural exchange
Places
Bombay / Mumbai , India
« I prefer to use the older name, ‘Bombay,' as it symbolizes the inclusive and cosmopolitan character of my city. » —Ranjit Hoskote
|
media_text
|
My uncle had a strange habit of gathering people.
Not less than 25 he would take on an outing.
Like: Aunty Perpetual with her breast cut
who would lift her t-shirt every time to show us her story,
Avo who would stand...
media_text
|
Metaphors could line the back alleys media_text
|
|
Rabisankar Bal’s Ayna Jiban, translated from the original Bengali by Arunava Sinha as A Mirrored Life, is a captivating novel that celebrates the tradition of the katha, the dastan, the qissa and the kahani, the... media_text
|
I sit here, listening to an orchestra. They are playing the Banjos of ingenuity, and far from where I am, is a symposium of wise men, sitting on the struggle media_text
|
Searchlights within reveal the roost of my still small voice is on a glacis: nothing unusual, I’m getting on in years. Swizzle sticks are my way of keeping track in a bar. Nip between us glaces... media_text
|
|
Snakes and ladders I met Mrs. Kumar twice in my life. The first when I was an administrative assistant and she, the wife of a man who had climbed the slippery corporate ladder... media_text
|
After the drill of social punctilios, when curtains are drawn, the blah media_text
|
My father was the quietest man; his few words made no sense in the world’s idiom. Saddled into a marriage astride a dead horse of tradition he flogged it too many times for two... media_text
|
|
The classical is a name we give to the hybridity we have forgotten. Its seemingly unassailable guarantees of a pure identity, homogenous culture and continuity with an idyllic past conceal the turbulences that... media_text
|
At the time of my birth, my small town Kalyan, did not have a library. It had no road rage, few beggars, one defunct traffic signal at Murbad Road, and fewer cars. Horizontal... media_text
|
Doorways to destiny’s legerdemain come alive after demitasse has leavened. Epiphanies: asymmetries must realign. Judging someone knocking at your door is incipient of intent. ... media_text
|
Pages
