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Thoughts Of A Viennese Street Monk

“Pick that book up. Yes, the one you never thought you’d read, the one which doesn’t fit the language the moon speaks to your sleepless caffeinating, or caffeinated insomnia. The one you would keep glancing at on a train, because, well, there is something about the way something that is meant to be temporary sticks to you with a frightening permanence. (more…)

‘Ugh! What? Is that like a proctologist? (more…)

The Last Person Alive

Poets take everything too seriously. They are condemnable creatures who, like rag-pickers, hunt for metaphors. My generation has had the most obsessive ones who drained metaphors out of everything, hunger included. They wrote that some were hungry for love, some for lust, some for fame, and others for money. All of them had one thing in common- they never had to go to bed hungry for food. They,…

I have always wanted to get out of the city for as long as I can remember. Growing up, Kolkata/Calcutta never held any special charm for me. The only time I felt relieved to see the Howrah Bridge was whenever I returned home from a family vacation. Plans for leaving the city for college did not materialize and here I was, stuck in this city of joy, “jar kichhu hobe na”. But I have grown to…

Falling in love with Himachal Pradesh

The first thing I thought of, after my first train of post-sleep-frustration thoughts this morning, was Himachal Pradesh. It is the way everything that plagues you leaps along the rail-track of your mind, bogey after bogey filled with classes stuffed like an infinity of scrap paper in a tiny dustbin, appointments that make you lose your breath, exams, presentations, assignments – only to be…