It’s all very quaint and Victorian. We don’t call them PG for Women. Or men. It’s PG for Gents. And PG for Ladies. The “gents” in question live in some slovenly conditions. The ladies, it seems, are a little better. But they remain squashed. Sharing a little room with 3 or 4, and calling it
Looking down the far edge of the wall, there she was. At the same place as she always had been. She had this one place that she occupied, hugging the walls of Bowring Curzon hospital. In front, several fast food restaurants. And the hub and throng of Shivajinagar’s people as they moved through its narrow
This a rant post. Or a rave post. It’s a bit of both. But for a change I am not cribbing about my life. Nor am I musing about its changes. No, for a change, all I have to ask here is for some change. This might anger ‘patriotic’ Indians, but it’s a democracy, right?
Saturday morning here. The sun is out –initially almost as if he was hesitating –a dash of blue skies and a riot of grey before he made up his mind. And now, it is a blaze of heat, warmth and all that is glorious in the world. I got up at 7:15AM because there was
Where have all the days gone? The minutes that imprint themselves into the vacant spaces of our days? So much has happened the past few weeks…I feel like I have traversed into time —into the past pages of our lives, journeyed into the future in the promised pages of our lives and somehow forgot the