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We often think we know a place because we know its address.We know the roads. We know the buildings. We know where to get tea. We know which corner is crowded in the evening. We know where people walk, where children play and where politicians once stood behind microphones.But knowing a place is not the same as knowing its memory.That distinction is at the heart of Shanta Gokhale’s Shivaji Park — ...
There are some books you finish.And there are some books you escape from.Not Without My Daughter belongs to the second category.Because while reading Betty Mahmoody’s account, I kept thinking about one frightening question:What happens when the person you trusted most becomes the person you have to protect your child from?Betty travels from America to Iran with her Iranian-American husband, Moody,...
There is a particular kind of guilt that doesn’t arrive with an accusation.It arrives disguised as concern.“Are you eating too much?”“You should lose some weight.”“You’re getting too ambitious.”“Don’t you think you should spend more time with the family?”“Why are you so sensitive?”And because the person saying it is often an aunt, a parent, a colleague, a friend — or simply someone who believes th...
Some of us spend a surprising amount of our lives trying to become easier to understand.We adjust how we speak.We soften our opinions.We hide the things that make us unusual.We learn which parts of ourselves are acceptable in a particular room — and which parts should probably stay outside it.And sometimes, without even realising it, we start confusing belonging with becoming someone else.That is ...
There is something almost irresistible about a young person who refuses to give up on a dream everyone else considers unrealistic.Especially when that dream involves Bollywood.Because Bollywood has spent decades teaching us to believe that somewhere between struggle and success, there will be a turning point. A phone call. An audition. A lucky break. A stranger who notices us. A game show with a l...
There are conversations we avoid because we don’t know what to say.And then there are conversations we avoid because we know exactly what we want to say.The second kind is often harder.We rehearse the words in our heads. We imagine how the other person might react. We worry about sounding rude, confrontational, insensitive, or simply being misunderstood.So we wait.Tomorrow becomes next week.Next w...
I have always found something slightly unsettling about telephone calls. Maybe it is because you cannot see the person on the other end. You hear a voice, but you don't know what the face behind it looks like. You cannot tell whether someone is speaking calmly because they are genuinely calm, or because they are trying very hard not to fall apart. Sometimes there is a pause. Sometimes there is sil...
I have a confession.I like books that make me stop reading.Not because they are boring.Quite the opposite.Because sometimes I am reading a page and suddenly I have to look up and say,“Wait. What?”That happened quite a few times with What the What?!And, honestly, that is probably the best possible reaction to this book.I came to it expecting a book of strange facts, trivia and questions.I got that....
There are some questions that are asked because we don’t know the answer.And then there are questions we ask because we are afraid of what the answer might mean.Am I a Dalit? belongs to the second category.Vijhay Sundar K.G.’s novel begins in a world where caste is not an abstract idea discussed in textbooks. It is present in families, relationships, social behaviour, humiliation and the choices p...
There is a strange problem with legends.We meet them too late.By the time we hear their names, the transformation has already happened. The doubts have disappeared. The mistakes have been edited out. The person has become a symbol.Parashurama is one of those figures.We know the axe.We know the anger.We know the warrior.But who was Rama before he became Parashurama?That is where Kevin Missal’s Para...
