Tuesday, December 07, 2010


Blogs are dying, the newspaper said,
And just remembered one that I had,
So thought of checking its pulse,
To see if it is still alive or dead.

Friday, November 12, 2010


The days of darkness are over finally.
I had waited for the dawn to come for long;
One little wrong word and too much veracity
Had killed this free spirit too early.

Thirst for knowledge and love of life lost,
The soul had shrunk as if pickled in brine
And lost its freedom, its love for life,
Become like an empty vessel thrown in mud.

Now you have brought so many joys and smiles,
You have changed the face of this terrain,
With your dash of luck you sail forward
Taking us both in your pleasant stride.

If I had not known this darkness, my dear,
I'd have never known the value of your smile.

Creative Writing

This is from an article that I read the other day. Motivation and Creativity: Effects of Motivational Orientation on Creative Writers by Teresa M. Amabile of Brandeis University. The study focuses on creative writing as an intrinsic activity that writers do with no expectation of any reward. Many people who participated in this study named the following as reasons why they wrote:
  • You get a lot of pleasure out of reading something good that you have written
  • You enjoy the opportunity for self-expression
  • You achieve new insights through your writing
  • You derive satisfaction from expressing yourself clearly and eloquently
  • You feel relaxed when writing
  • You like to play with words
  • You enjoy becoming involved with ideas, characters, events, and images in your writing. 

Friday, October 01, 2010

water lily

Thursday, September 16, 2010


Someday, I want to write the perfect words for what I have in mind. Perfect words written to evoke the perfect feeling. The best of all phrases, wrapped together with the right mix of spices, none too much, just right, none too serious nor too trivial, just mixed like life.

Someday, I would like to gather all my gains and losses, inheritance of words as well as silences and create new music out of them, blending words of joy and love and pain and everything into a perfect little potpourri just like life.But such a perfect day, when perfect thoughts melt into perfect words is yet to be. 

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Tiny Feet

May your tiny feet walk beside our big ones,
May your tiny, rosy, tender, toes learn to love the touch of earth,
May you know the night and the sunshine,
May you know your own darkness and light
May you hear the music of rain pitter-pattering on the roof,
May you believe in fairy-tales and epics, dreams and God,
May your eyes, bright and wild shine with laughter as kisses rain on you.
May you touch the tender velvet of flowers,
May you learn simplicity with grace,
May you bask in the beauty of your own souls.

May you learn to love the word and use it to heal all wounds,
May your light shine in our lives and make it lovelier than before,
May you love God as lovingly as you love your father.
May you spread the joy of life in everyone you commune with,
May your eyes be deep and discerning to know the world around you,
May your laughter and smiles be the sunshine in our homes,
May Lord bless you in every step, every dream, every moment of your life,
May you learn the art of transforming thoughts into action.
May you connect with goodness in every dimension,
May you love knowledge and use it with wisdom and serve.

May your heart be lifted by simple joys,
May you sing cheerfully and dance to the music,
May you heart be filled with love for God and others,
May you accept all blessings with gratitude,
May you value time and its passage.
May your thoughts flow in a clear stream of purity,
May you face the world with courage and love,
May your presence be a delight, your love a guide,
May you see change as a rule of life,
May you recognise the good in the rude and the shrewd in the nice.

May the fire of love burn bright in your heart,
May your dreams touch the sky,
May you heart bounce with joy at the sight of a bright blue sky,
May your soul move in unison with the winds, the waves and the orbits of planets,
May your being listen to sweet music sung by the tender moonlit night.
May you live by your own thoughts and dreams,
May you see the inner light in another's eyes,
May you trust in Providence for helping you every moment,
May you love beauty and create for yourself a beautiful life,
May the memory of lullabies bring comfort later in life.

May you value the lessons of life; its sudden turns and tides,
May the seasons teach you lessons of life,
May nature teach you the symbols and signs,
May spring bring you fresh flowers of joy,
May summer teach you courage and endurance,
May autumn talk with you about moving on,
May winter tell you hidden secrets of rebirth.
May you protect the earth from destruction and contamination,
May your life be spotless and pure, may your actions be wise and guided,
May your heart swirl in joy and weep in pain,
May you be courageous enough to weep and show your affection.

May you be kind, considerate, truthful and loyal in your dealings.
May you know life as a tough race as well as a beautiful day in the woods,
May you know its calm flow as well as its torrents,
May you learn the paradoxes and extremes,and find your own balance,
May you use humour to takethe dreariness out of tough times,
May you learn to love deeply, purely and passionately,
May you know our own strengths and weaknesses and strive to see them in balance,
May you learn what to love and what to hate,
What to choose and what to discard,
May you read with a smile all the blessings that a fond soul wishes for you!

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Eternal game

You and I were meant to meet; like two streams joining to form a force, entwined to travel through miles and miles to become invisible specks in the endless sea of eternity. But you and I were destined to struggle about identities, independence and possession- that make such a natural blending impossible. Like two opposites, fire and water, who cannot co-exist; we have become feuds in one eternal struggle for life. But this is enough for this life, for without being possessed, without following the rules of the world, this love has turned into a game that can played forever.

Friday, July 16, 2010

Favourite words

Make your own bible.  Select and collect all the words and sentences that in all your readings have been to you like the blast of the trumpet.Ralph Waldo Emerson
Every reader has certain idiosyncrasies, words that s/he loves to visit time and again. But not every reader is able to gather all the words that opened new vistas and changed the boundaries altogether.

Once upon a time, I had a book of favourite verses, of course handwritten and very valuable. It was given as a gift to a very special person. Now, if I write a collection of inspiring quotes and poems, the starting entries might be the same as in the previous book.

Different kinds of entries might follow marking the growth of a mind during ten years. Some of the entries are already posted in the blog under the tag Inspiring words

Monday, June 14, 2010

English silence

I remember reading a tribute to OV Vijayan in an English daily. It narrated a story about his attempts to write a novel in English. Being an MA in English, it should have been an easy job for him; but once he started writing, he understood that his hand was blocked and that he couldn't write with flow. So he tried his mother-tongue and we have the historical Khasakinte Ithihasam. This anecdote stayed in my memory, because at that time, I was an MA student, eager and enthusiastic to devour whatever literary trivia that came my way. Now, five years later, I find that I'm still enthusiastic about writers and their idiosyncrasies.

Tuesday, April 06, 2010


The metaphysical question popped someday;
When you wondered how a home could crumble,
Tremble and crash without digits on a Richter scale,
Without physical quakes or forces of destruction.

Certainly, it could crumble everyday with a tiff;
Might remain joyless, empty of sunshine and light
By premature deaths that leave eternal chasms,
Or by calamities silently borne with muted tears.

How else could you describe that fleeting security,
A little sunshine and feelings of coziness and comfort,
The cuddling warmth and the elusive happiness
Juxtaposed against violent fights and silences.

It still crumbles everyday with little misunderstandings,
As it has always done since you started all raging fires.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

For Baby

My soul you are; my child,
My baby fluttering inside.

My days are full of longing,
Dreams of being your mom.

You were a dream before;
Now waiting at my door.

What bundle of surprises,
Wisdom, virtues and vices.

What a bond will ours be? 

I wait for time to tell me.

Unborn child, my little one,
Teach me again how to love.

Sunday, March 21, 2010


Saturday, March 20, 2010

Winca Rosa

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Snapshots from my Garden

Thursday, February 25, 2010


Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.  Berthold Auerbach
What could I do then, the singer croons delicately,
While tears fill my eyes, as I think of
a life gone by,  
For I knew you never were mine; but another's
Yet this foolish heart worshipped you like a God.

You were the one whom my heart searched for years,
But when I loved you, it was only existing in my fantasy;
For it was not your fault that this love could never be;
Only mine that I knew it well and loved you more for it.

It was my own folly that made me love you so much,
To wreck all chances of happiness in your name,
Then wander in strange places looking for your face,
And write songs about you read by strange eyes.

A snatch of a song can be paused and played
And I wish I could do the same with you as well.

Friday, February 19, 2010


There's a soul in me
Who hates to cuss 

And be cussed,
or even a single word
that flies from anger.

But there's a mind,
a little thwarted
a little violent
Who loves to break
someone's complacence.

on such days,my mind
Breaks out of silence,
thrashes the opponent
with bitter words
quite unexpected.

a little remorse felt,
but more satisfaction
at raised eyebrows
that show surprise
and a little awe.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010


You advise me to write about my life and the things I have known closely and clearly; beings that I have cared about the most; so that you can read into my person and know the workings of my mind, which changes from transparent to translucent to opaque all the time. All you want to do is to know me inside out.

But when I think upon writing about my life, a rein of reticence falls on my hand. It pauses suddenly. It thinks twice before going into details- about writing out its venomous accusations and repressed memories of loss and longing. It hates to point fingers at the usual figures of contradiction who inspire mixed feelings of love, hate, fear and freedom.

Is there truth or only versions of it-yours, mine, theirs- that have become too vague to be recalled with accuracy. So, this heart dislikes to break its own shell of peace and refuses to indulge in resurrecting skeletons in the cupboard, that too in these days of love and sunshine.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010


A flower of basil everyday
Plucked every morning and gifted, 
A gentle surreptitious stroke, 
On the palm of hand, 
A stolen kiss, 
Beneath the staircase, 
A glance across a crowded room, 
Caught and returned. 

A quickly scribbled message, 
And a faded rose, 
Inside a gifted book of poetry, 
Neatly kept, unread, 
Like promises unfulfilled, 
Long forgotten and buried, 
Those days of love, 
That are dead and gone.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010


Monday, February 08, 2010

The Story of My Life

I have never seen the story of my life summarised in more poignant words than the ones on this coffee-mug at home:


Mary had a little lamb, a little toast, a little jam, a little pizza and some cake,
some French fries, and a chocolate shake, a little burger on a bun.
And that's why Mary weighs a ton. :-)

Wednesday, February 03, 2010

Lost is how I feel

The horror of being marooned and trapped in an island faraway from civilization is a well-explored theme in literature. The Island of Dr.Moreau, The Coral Island and The Lord of The Flies portray the extremities of such an existence; so does the Tom Hanks movie Cast Away. A similar theme is explored by the Star World series Lost

Lost narrates the stories of 40 odd survivors of the Oceanic Flight 815 who are stranded on an island. There are special narrative techniques; flashes of time travel, where the characters move back and forth in time.Though parts of the story are ambiguous, the series surely is an interesting piece of science fiction. 

Though I'm a little lost regarding the storyline and have fallen in love with Sawyer,(the conman in the series, shown below) I certainly enjoy watching even random episodes of it and was surprised to read that it has become a trend in tourism and business as well. (News Courtesy: Business Opportunities Weblog)

Tuesday, February 02, 2010

The Power of Words

Generosity Vision Ease Dignity Enrichment
Ripple Momentum Power Harmony Empathy
Knowledge Neoteny Celebrate Do-It-Yourself Adventure
Change Passion Magnetize Confidence Technology

Do you like these twenty powerful words? These are only a few of the 70 words, handpicked by bloggers, writers and innovators for the year 2010. This initiative, known as What Matters Now  is the brainchild of writer-innovator-blogger Seth Godin. Certainly a collection of unconventional wisdom for 2010. Thought of sharing it with you, dear readers!  

This project also provokes you to come up with a word for 2010. I'd say, EQUANIMITY. What's yours?

Friday, January 29, 2010


Usually, I get attached to anything and everything and try to cure my nature by remaining or appearing as cold and unattached. 

There were times before this when leaving a work place made me so sad that I couldn't talk for days together and will not call anybody. Not to make calls when you know that you miss them and they miss you as well. This time, however I plunged into the farewell with a difference.

Morning my first hour on Aristotle was spent on "Tragedy" and its classic definition. It was complete teaching time as if we had no time to waste. The next hour was spent in student presentations with the same principle in mind. But the surprise came when a student handed over a carefully gift-wrapped parcel.

First, I was astounded and put it down on the table after muttering a "Thank you". Then, I realised what a fool I'm remembering all the times when I've also missed unwrapping a gift. So, I unwrapped the parcel to see a beautiful Ravi Varma Painting of a woman with a bowl of fruits. It was quite unexpected and then I understood that learning Oscar Wilde and his 'Importance of Being Earnest' together brought us closer to one another.

Then after sometime, I realised that the teachers in my staffroom were throwing a surprise party (with sweets and specials). This was another unexpected blessing that made me realise how loving somebody is (for every noble gesture is an idea in the mind of a woman ;-).During the party, everybody said good words about me and I was moved by their kindness. Some of them even asked me to return next year for the next academic session.

This farewell was a heartwarming experience; for once I reached home, I felt as if I had left something precious at college. But the saddest part is that I feel shy of going back even for a day because everybody has bid adieu already and I feel conscious of that!
Still I have made calls to my colleagues and plan of visiting college to finish some unfinished businesses.  

Thursday, January 28, 2010


How do years pass so fast? Still we are bound by the same mind that once felt too small in a large world. Humbled by our own insignificance, we lived by retreating into our own well-crafted shells. Until we met the deaf, the mute and the blind, who were all made senseless by their exaggerated sense of self-importance.

For who can feel free or breathe in the presence of the those who are made senseless by the power and the glory of their past, which they claim is brighter than what they had really known. Whatever that be, when words do come, they all carry within them a tinge of bitter loneliness.

Peace and silence are hard-earned lessons; so is a smile or a cheering word. Still, I count my blessings in these days of silence and understand that this too will pass, like all the other days before it. Moreover, you are a newly found joy; one who loves without asking anything in return, whose heart is filled with longing and love and one who awaits my words with eagerness.

Love begets love; so the wise sages have said. So wait for these days of madness be over and I can come back to you for more pleasant days of togetherness.

Monday, January 25, 2010

On Writing

If you are writing without zest, without gusto, without love, without fun, you are only half a writer. It means you are so busy keeping one eye on the commercial market, or one ear peeled for the avante-garde coterie, that you are not being yourself. You don't even know yourself. For the first thing a writer should be is-excited. He should be a thing of fevers and enthusiasms. Without such vigour, he might as well be out picking peaches or digging ditches; God knows it'd be better for his health.RAY BRADBURY

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Riding on a Full Moon Night

The ice-cold fingers of the full moon,
Could seep through the windowpanes
And caress this small self that moved
Across the state on a large vehicle.

The city lights shone in the distance,
Ships and islands glittered in my view,
While I sat in the bus dreaming of you,
And thought the moon followed my path.

The journey was unpleasant and sad,
To see if life could change from despair,
But wherever I went, the full moon shone,
In a life that was spent in your dreams.

In those times, you were like a deity,
Whom I worshipped night and day.

Friday, January 22, 2010

The second is always the best

My grandmother always had this saying to prove that I'm not as good as my elder brother: The second is never the best. Her explanation was that the expectation and charm of a first-born, first job, first salary (who said so- money is money, spendable, splashable and savable) is unmatched by anything that comes after it. My grandmother always favoured the eldest and the male. It was part of her legacy and I was more than once much irritated by her attitude.

For a few months, I was working as a lecturer in a college. Though temporary, it was my second stint as a teacher for students at the college level. The first stint was very unpleasant and had made me very bitter and comically venomous towards teaching at colleges in general though the fault lay in my mind, which was so unfocused and fatally in love.

But this second time was different. It was only few months but the best time of my life in my opinion. A city college with not many amenities but the basic ones and students coming from poor backgrounds, it was not easy to win hearts as a teacher.

When I leave the campus in a few days, I know that I have not made a revolutionary change in the "Englishes" of my students but I know for sure that I have made at least a small difference in their grades.

Now, I'm leaving a job after making my students ( at least my Drama class students) and the teachers in the staff room LIKE me incredibly.This second chance for me at least meant that I could shed many of my stupid notions and negative emotions as well as my own lack of confidence in my teaching abilities gained as an after-effect of my first stint.

Thursday, January 21, 2010


Once it was burning the midnight oil,
Going over thick books and big ideas.
Now, times have changed, so have I,
With my mind no longer ready to read.

Though dark nights are back again,
Heavy with despair and old grief,
Over life lost to this crumbling
Of all existing personal barriers.

I wish it was easy to build again,
A shell of comfort and silence,
Read myself to that forgetfulness,
That came with books and ideas.

But this mind, once a clean page,
Cannot now hold wisdom of ages.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Celebrating 300 posts

It was only in last June that Journal- Serious and Trivial celebrated its 200th post and he not-so-modest author  made a pick of what she considers as the best of her most valuable sacred space: potpourri blog of poems, silences, reviews and definitions of silence. Now, several months later, lagging behind in the number of posts due to several reasons yet trying to catch up with an occasional post or the other, this journal is celebrating its 300th post. 

Here are a few select posts from the meagre and feeble 100 that followed the 200. 

This year, the Indiblogger rank of this blog has gone up again and reached 60 this time, though it was from 71 that it fell sometime back!

Sunday, January 10, 2010


This book of magic, for you, my beloved,
Remains to this day, a faraway dream;
For once there were flavours dreamt
To be set before your taste-buds.

Strangely, I have lost that magic wand,
To turn anything into appealing dishes,
Instead I have lost you and my dream,
To an inertia that loves only the self. 

Now no longer the magic appeals,
To the ones who matter the most,
No feathers are seen in my cap,
To display proudly my secret skill. 

You cook and call me a beginner,
While I sit and smile ironically.

Saturday, January 09, 2010

Reading Spree

Do you know the occasional learning spree that makes you read every scrap of paper that passes before your eyes? Well, I have this tendency once in a while, when I want to read lots and lots of books and gobble up tonnes and tonnes of new ideas- anything that can quench my thirst for knowledge. But such spells last only a short span of time and may be followed by times of no reading at all.

This week, I'm on such a reading spree and I have got writing assignment on new topics that  might have created this curiosity. Well, let's see what writing comes out of this love of words and ideas.

Friday, January 08, 2010

Save Paper; Save Stress; Avoid Scandal

This year, I have made a rather strange and dramatic New Year Resolution. No diaries, this time and writing only on scrap paper and with the help of the PC. Regarding empty pages, I have plenty of them left in my other notebooks. So all I need to do is to start writing on whatever sheet of paper that comes handy.

My last year's resolution of writing a page a day was kind of stressing me out. Somehow, there were days when I found it impossible to sit down and write. Of course, there was a hectic, unhealthy and trivial life to lead. Moreover, the empty pages stare at me from the diary accusingly, for I have left no record nor memory of many of those passing days.

Finally, there is this habit of mine to pour out my true feelings and emotions on to paper. For me, that is my remedy for stress and tension and bottling up emotions. But it somehow backfires when I forget to lock my diary up and leaves it right in front of my family with whom I might have fought and wrote venomously. So no causing scandals this year.

Thursday, January 07, 2010

Interesting Articles I Read Today

Dear Reader,

I'm sharing with you a few interesting articles that I read today:
  1. 36 Poetry Writing Tips 
  2. 9 Ways to Develop Intelligence at Any Age
  3. How to Touch Your Creative Soul: A Zen View
Hope you enjoy reading them as I did!

Wednesday, January 06, 2010

Journal: Serious and Trivial

A thousand blank pages wait to record a few lines,
Some serious, some trivial, some mixed like life,
All gathered from the same rambling mind,
Which has loved to dream, to love and to lose.

The serious thoughts were all about your loss
A vacuum that I have never been able to fill,
A turning point from the fact that I was loved, 

Into a world full of options and crossroads.

The trivial thoughts were all written in joy,
A bundle of words on a beautiful morning,
When the fresh air and bright blue sky
Was more than enough to make me high.

But the best was always the mixed ones,
Not too sad or happy; just real like today's.

Tuesday, January 05, 2010

Jane Smiley and her list of 100 novels

Jane Smiley writes about her experiences with novels- reading, writing and reviewing- in her Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Novel. In this book, she lists a set of 100 novels that has influenced her considerably. From classics to most recent books, her list covers a good deal of novels, belonging to various types.

  1.  Murasaki Shikibu, The Tale of Genji
  2. Author unknown, The Saga of the People of Laxardal
  3. Snorri Sturluson, Egil's Saga
  4. Giovanni Boccaccio, The Decameron
  5. Marguerite de Navarre, The Heptameron
  6. Anonymous, Lazarillo de Tormes
  7. Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote, vols. 1 and 2
  8. Madame de Lafayette, The Princess of Cleves
  9. Aphra Behn, Oroonoko
  10. Daniel Defoe, Robinson Crusoe, Roxana
  11. Samuel Richardson, Pamela
  12. Henry Fielding, The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling
  13. Charlotte Lennox, The Female Quixote
  14. Laurence Sterne, The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman
  15. Voltaire, Candide
  16. Tobias Smollett, The Expedition of Humphry Clinker
  17. Choderlos de Laclos, Les Liaisons Dangereuses
  18. The Marquis de Sade, Justine
  19. Sir Walter Scott, The Tale of Old Mortality, The Bride of the Lammermoor
  20. Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
  21. Jane Austen, Persuasion
  22. James Hogg, The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner
  23. Stendhal, The Red and the Black
  24. Nicolai Gogol, Taras Bulba
  25. Mikhail Lermontov, A Hero of Our Time
  26. Honore de Balzac, Cousin Pons and Cousin Bette
  27. Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre
  28. Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights
  29. William Makepeace Thackeray, Vanity Fair
  30. Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom's Cabin
  31. Herman Melville, Moby-Dick, or the Whale
  32. Nathaniel Hawthorne,The House of the Seven Gables
  33. Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary
  34. Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities
  35. Wilkie Collins, The Woman in White, The Moonstone
  36. Ivan Turgenev, Fathers and Sons
  37. Emile Zola, Therese Raquin
  38. Anthony Trollope, The Last Chronicle of Barset , The Eustace Diamonds
  39. Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Idiot
  40. Louisa May Alcott, Little Women
  41. George Eliot, Middlemarch
  42. Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina
  43. Henry James, The Portrait of a Lady , The Awkward Age
  44. Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
  45. Bram Stoker, Dracula
  46. Kate Chopin, The Awakening
  47. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Hound of the Baskervilles
  48. Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness
  49. Edith Wharton, The House of Mirth
  50. Max Beerbohm, The Illustrated Zuleika Dobson, or an Oxford Love Story
  51. Ford Madox Ford, The Good Soldier
  52. Sinclair Lewis, Main Street
  53. Sigrid Undset, Kristin Lavransdatter, volume I, The Wreath
  54. James Joyce, Ulysses
  55. Italo Svevo, Zeno's Conscience
  56. E.M. Forster, A Passage to India
  57. F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
  58. Franz Kafka, The Trial
  59. Hermann Broch, The Sleepwalkers
  60. Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time
  61. D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley's Lover
  62. Virginia Woolf, Orlando
  63. William Faulkner, As I Lay Dying
  64. Robert Musil, The Man without Qualities, volume 1
  65. Mikhail Sholokhov, And Quiet flows the Don
  66. Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God
  67. Elizabeth Bowen, The Death of the Heart
  68. P.G. Wodehouse, The Return of Jeeves, Bertie Wooster Sees it Through, Spring Fever, The Butler Did It
  69. T.H. White, The Once and Future King
  70. Christina Stead, The Man Who Loved Children
  71. Junichiro Tanizaki, The Makioka Sisters
  72. Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita
  73. Rebecca West, The Fountain Overflows
  74. Nancy Mitford, The Pursuit of Love and Love in a Cold Climate and Don't Tell Alfred
  75. Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird
  76. Jetta Carleton, The Moonflower Vine
  77. Yukio Mishima, The Sailor Who Fell from Grace with the Sea
  78. Jean Rhys, Wide Sargasso Sea
  79. John Gardner, Grendel
  80. Alice Munro, Lives of Girls and Women
  81. Naguib Mahfouz, The Harafish
  82. Iris Murdoch, The Sea, the Sea
  83. David Lodge, How Far Can You Go?
  84. Muriel Spark, Loitering With Intent
  85. Anne Tyler, Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant
  86. Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being
  87. Jamaica Kincaid, Annie John
  88. J.M. Coetzee, Foe
  89. Toni Morrison, Beloved
  90. A.S. Byatt, Possession
  91. Nicholson Baker, Vox
  92. Garrison Keillor, WLT: A Radio Romance
  93. Kate Atkinson, Behind the Scenes at the Museum
  94. Rohinton Mistry, A Fine Balance
  95. Francine Prose, Guided Tours of Hell
  96. Chang-rae Lee, A Gesture Life
  97. Arnost Lustig, Lovely Green Eyes
  98. Zadie Smith, White Teeth
  99. John Updike, The Complete Henry Bech
  100. Ian McEwan, Atonement
  101. Jennifer Egan, Look at Me 
Note: I have read only a handful of them but would like to catch up with the rest in future!

Monday, January 04, 2010

Goodbye Again

For you, no words are enough; no goodbyes enough,
For you were always there besides the River Green,
Looking at my small and big steps with lots of pride
For all these long years from early childhood.

Now you are like a child with a weak heart and mind,
That trembles and forgets who you really represent,
Still in your shaky voice heard over the distance,
I hear the same pride that I have heard before.

You taught me my first words and the first songs
You sang in that hoarse voice, your many boatsongs,
That later formed the wild rhythm of musicless songs
Written in a language you have forgotten to understand.

Now, all you know is a strange language of goodbyes
That makes my heart tremble and grow old so early.

Saturday, January 02, 2010


I am the taste of pure water and the radiance of the sun and moon. I am the sacred word and the sound heard in air, and the courage of human beings. I am the sweet fragrance in the earth and the radiance of fire; I am the life in every creature and the striving of the spiritual aspirant.
The Bhagavat Gita


In a way, each story has the same kernel in it- our dreams, hopes and longing all lost and found again- the fire and the smiles and t...