When we were six or seven, we used to live in an oasis in the heart of Calcutta. Everywhere else the city was teeming with people, concrete, dust, dirt, cars, buses and street hawkers–an overload to the senses.
Yet, in the midst of it all was our oasis of a housing complex and a quiet street of some offices–a collection of buildings owned by the Railways to which change had not come in a long time.There had been few new constructions since the days the Brits were here and so the buildings were solid but not modern and the trees were all old and shady. Continue reading Memory’s oases →
Like this:
Like Loading...
The river is completely dark. A solitary vessel is glowing like a diamond-studded jewel on the inky black surface. The roar of the helicopters that criss-cross the sky all day is finally gone. The voices of the people who pass by speaking a dozen languages about office affairs by my window in the afternoons and evenings are all silent.
Even the gulls are gone.
A solitary lamp glows on my nightstand providing just enough light to illuminate my keyboard rather insufficiently. When I look outside the window I see circles of light on the concrete right below the street lamps in a straight line all along the river.
There is no one there. Yet I don’t feel alone.
Continue reading Night →
Like this:
Like Loading...
There’s been something different in the air this week. Is it the quality of light?
Continue reading Fall already? →
Like this:
Like Loading...
We got into the car last week and drove off and kept driving until we reached the Niagara Falls. Took about ten hours but never mind. We were rewarded for enduring the heat and the scorching sun:
Continue reading Text and nature at Niagara Falls →
Like this:
Like Loading...
easy reading is damn hard writing
bottledworder 