Featured posts from the thinkdeli community.
“Ekad baa”..I called my daughter “come this side” as she was strolling all over in the train to explore it. I was calling her repeatedly and this word stuck in my head. Me being an over thinker, the thoughts lingered for no reason.Ekad Ba - in Kannada ( north slang) - come this side Ee kadea Ba - in Kannada ( Bangalore / south slang ) come this side Eekade Yeaa - in Marathi- ( come this side)Ika...
At this point there is enough research, reporting and momentum to point to the fact that social media is harmful for all those who use it and these companies are ready to world this immense power to do the bidding of the highest payer. this book might be the final nail in the coffin for some of you. for some it might be square one to your own social emancipation. to me it is a necessary reminder t...
The cafe was calmer now, the evening settling into its corners. Kaia placed the sunflowers gently on the counter, removing the paper wrap with care. She didn’t look at them for long - almost as if they demanded more emotion than she was ready to give.Mrs. Alder noticed.“They’re lovely’', she said softly.Kaia nodded, absently.“Yes, someone geve it to me today.'“Mrs. Alder hummed, trimming a stem.“K...
Similar to Shantaram, this is a window into a bygone Bombay that i have never known. Delightful read this one - the poetry in the words and the scenes evoke empathy for the characters even when they are at their worst.
I read The River Woman and Other Poems slowly, the way one reads something that does not want to be rushed. A few poems at night. One in the quiet between two tasks. Sometimes just a single page, because the lines had a way of lingering — like the aftersound of water moving past stones long after the river itself has slipped out of view.Renu Roy’s poetry does not announce itself loudly. It arrives...
I began Madam Commissioner expecting a memoir about power, postings, and protocol. What I did not expect was how quietly it would sit with me afterward — like the weight of a khaki uniform folded neatly on a chair, still warm from long use. This is not a book that shouts. It stands. Firmly. And asks you, without drama, to look at what integrity costs.Meeran Chadha Borwankar’s life has been written...
A true love letter to New England - not just the forests and the wildlife. But the history and geography. The palimpsest of stories that sometimes cross paths across eras and some that are lost to the vagaries of time. Waiting to be discovered and told.
I was feeling irritated because of a traffic jam that afternoon—such a waste of time. We had barely moved for the last fifteen minutes. In the middle of the jam, I noticed a woman pulling a cart loaded with five heavy bags of white powder. She was dragging it with both hands, carefully finding her way through the traffic.She was Neeta Devi, probably in her late forties. She was covered in white po...
My fathers shawl. This shawl is more than just a piece of cloth to me; it's a symbol of my father's love. He loved it for its quality and warmth, and it's been with me since I left home for studies and now for marriage. It's my go-to companion during travels and winter days.Whenever my father sees it, he can't help but praise its goodness and reminds him how it kept him warm during his pilgrimage ...