Statutory warning: There are no ghosts in this story. But I met a man who wanted to take me to the edge of my known world. “We call it a grain of sand But it calls itself neither grain nor sand” – Wislawa Szymborska Twelve years ago a morning, I was scouring the city in my bike for a potential prey. My deadline was fast coming; I must submit a story for the column, ‘Face in the Crowd,’ in the … Continue reading
Life teaches us so many things at morning walks, which is a perfect slice of the organic world we live in with all its exciting variety men and women of all ages and shapes. The background Clip clop clip clop clip clop… I walk even in sleep. When you guys toss your care away and hit the bed at night my head would be booming with clip- clop, clip- clop, clip- clop… Were there earthquakes, avalanches, volcano eruptions last night? … Continue reading
Continued from Part 1 of Talking the Walk The gait When some men march past, you can hear medals clanging about on their chests. Their eyes would be planted on the moon, their tummies would be drawn in to the point of implosion, their hands would be swinging to measured height and distance vigorously as if they are on an everlasting passing out parade, desperate to impress the higher-ups left-right-left-right left… You must have noted that the guy who walks … Continue reading
Thirty years ago today my brother (who was only 14) decided to send a message to his teacher he could never forget. He hanged himself to death. Could he teach his teacher the lesson he wanted to teach? His brother reports from home (This story was first published at yentha.com 4 years ago). The run-up to a revolt There were signs all over the home. On the rose plant you did not water for a whole week, on the crumbled … Continue reading
