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Of Nobel Winners
The reason I picked up Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys from Archana was that she spoke so well about it. Her description made me extremely curious about the book. That’s not the reason why I borrowed the book on erotic short stories from her! But that’s another story. Continue reading
Papyrus: How Does It Begin?
A gaggle of women have come to hear me read from my book, Cloud 9 Minus One, at Priti’s house. For Priti, time is a stretchable commodity. She had committed to me in April that she would host this event, but it is now finally November when I’m doing this. Continue reading
Lost Character
There are some words that simply mustn’t be allowed in English literature, or any other literature. Sex, whore, pimp, fuck and all its colourful variants, also anything to do with bodily effluents, and so on. These terms, and activities related to these terms, are a bad influence on one. I wonder if Shakespeare knew about this? Continue reading
My New Kindle
The first time I heard about Kindle, I dismissed it out of hand as a non-reader’s fake toy. People who weren’t ‘into’ books bought the gadget, or people who were into gadgets, or show-offs, anyone but a true lover of books. I little realised that I was being the show-off here. Like a true snob, I had dismissed something without understanding it. And then my husband gave it to me as a gift. Continue reading
Storytelling – The Female Way
The other day I found myself including a long sambhar recipe in a story that had nothing to do with sambhar or indeed food of any other kind. The inclusion just happened. I stared at what I had written, wondering how it got there. It had got there, of course, because I had typed it out there myself. It wasn’t something I had cut and pasted off the Internet. I had written the recipe, inside my story. Continue reading
Writing 101
Unlike what many writers will declare after the event, writing is a damn hard thing to do. And since it isn’t easy for me to write this, I shall put together the following bullet points for new writers, and I shall call it Six Tough Rules to Writing Well: Continue reading
Eeny Meeny Miny Friend
‘I wish I had known,’ said Divya. ‘Just a hint.’ And she started crying, small sobs that were threatening to rise to large gulps any moment. After some time she settled down, and took a deep breath to drown out the sobbing. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. Continue reading
Times of Trouble
Rhonda is beautiful and blonde. She has short hair cropped close to her skull, and smiling lips. Her eyes radiate peace. She wears a skirt suit, with an olive green tank top underneath, and low-heeled black shoes. In her ears she wears tiny diamond studs, and around her neck a small diamond pendant on a thin chain. On her right wrist, there’s a medium sized watch with a narrow twin coloured strap. She is always calm, no matter what I say to her. Continue reading
Forever Who
Akash was a 47 year old alcoholic. His first wife left him because he loved his second wife more than her, and his second wife left him because he loved whisky more than her. His parents abandoned him because divorce was a disgrace for their family, and a double divorce was inexcusable. His children couldn’t decide whether to leave him or not since they were too small. Then one day his daughter grew up and decided to be with her dad. He was her dad, though she had never seen him fully sober or fully a dad. Her father, to her, was a maudlin piece of wreckage floating in the ocean. Continue reading