Encounters of a cynical kind

'That ... be not told of my death, Or made to grieve on account of me, And that I be not buried in consecrated ground, And that no sexton be asked to toll the bell, And that nobody is wished to see my dead body, And that no mourners walk behind me at my funeral, And that no flowers be planted on my grave, And that no man remember me, To this I put my name.' - Thomas Hardy

Saturday, June 27, 2015

A Weekend In The Sahyadris

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I chuckle quietly as the kids argue and fight. We are playing cricket - three of us from Mumbai and a bunch of 10-12 year olds – on ...
10 comments:
Thursday, July 10, 2014

Ulan Bator: A City In Flux

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Unending Steppes The train rounds a hill and we catch our first glimpse of Ulan Bator from a slight vantage - a sprawling cluster of l...
11 comments:

Memories & Istanbul

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Not at First Sight My first vivid recollection of the Bosphorus is, strangely, not of the first time I saw it. I know, of course, ...
4 comments:

Backstreet's Back, Alright!

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Its been a long long time since anything's happened on this blog apart from posts being removed. I had started to think I might give up...
1 comment:
Sunday, June 12, 2011

Saving Money

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Classroom sessions ended, twice every year, at the end of a semester, well before the exams began. The intervening period – ‘Study Leave’ wa...
8 comments:
Sunday, May 22, 2011

Yab-Yum

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Kaushik hated spending nights away from his apartment when he was in Mumbai. He did not know why, but there it was. Even in college, after n...
1 comment:
Sunday, March 13, 2011

Short Story - Words

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The wind grew stronger. It howled its way into the gaps of shut windows and doors – a path otherwise monopolized by sunlight – but there was...
3 comments:
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Kushal Chowdhury
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