Places

Bombay / Mumbai , India

Bombay / Mumbai , India

« I prefer to use the older name, ‘Bombay,' as it symbolizes the inclusive and cosmopolitan character of my city. »  —Ranjit Hoskote

‘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...

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
of distraught kingdoms,
casting rebels,
buzzing like bees,
around intrusive hornets,
breaking out to bigger nests;
productive unrest,
...

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
of the common American –...

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
blah of bovarism lies peeled in hearts willing to eavesdrop on themselves.
Therapy of truth unveils its secrets: we know our...

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