17/06/2018Trying not to read. To walk in the rain, get to work. But it falls apart often…And love poems are not easy to writefor absent ones: can’t remember any morethe colour of their eyes, try as one might.

AkhmatovaAkhmatova’s sparkling prose is a discovery this morning. Someone shared it on twitter, and work day turns into poetry deep dive. This one is an untitled poem, from her collection ‘Evening’. Words read as a poetic articulation of last year.And when we had cursed each other,Passionate, white hot,We still didn’t understandHow small the earth can … Continue reading

There is nothing straight about desire at all

Late night read. Madhavi Menon’s interview. This one’s quite interesting in the way Menon frames it -  Q: You write, “A far cry from the dominant history of sexuality that would assign one identity to one person, dargahs provide us with a window onto a world of desirous possibilities, none of which are spelled out … Continue reading There is nothing straight about desire at all

‘Post some pics’ , was the trigger to look back at pictures from Oslo of 2016. I’ve never quite figured my relationship with photography and what is the nature of that urge to take pictures of places visited. Early years of university, it was a compulsive drive to take pictures , stunning ones; figure the … Continue reading


WTF! Suicide? Anthony Bourdain hung himself says the news. That’s hard to believe. Looked like he was always having a full life - the passion, that enthusiasm, a curious outlook and drive to see new places…So, these men were facades (thinking of Robin Williams too), the real part of them was contemplating an end. People … Continue reading Bourdain

Henry Miller on life Waking up to a morning overcast with rain. The greyness is typical of this city in these months. Even before coffee, there is a need for words. Some words that can invoke the morning. For today, it is Henry Miller’s words on ‘a well lived life’ that almost reads like a … Continue reading

More than memory06/06/2018NLS Trail That mention of Luria’s by Sacks has been sitting inside the head for a while now. Surely there must be something more than memory alone in people. Which defines them. Constitutes them. Yet the centrality of memory for some. Ran a few good laps of inclines for evening’s 12 km run. … Continue reading