Besan Ka Halwa

Days Homebound  #10 9th Jan 2020 There are smirks. There are grins. There are smiles. And then there are smiles that come bursting out of you when you experience moments of uncontrollable happiness, but to make sure that you don't jinx it, you try to keep it to the level of a smirk and what the camera captures is a grin. This was one such moment- after a week spent in borrowing, buying and beaming at books. All because of one of the most motivating elements for an IFS Officer Trainee: the book allowance.   Days Homebound  #11 11th Jan '20 At Pragati Maidan Book Fair... Me: 100 ka note dena please. Mum: Why? Me: Have to buy tickets. Mum: Teri ticket kyun lagegi? Exam clear kiya hai na tune toh. Me: Usse kucch nahi hota. Anyways it is just 20 per head. Give fast, it's a long queue. Mum: ID card dikha de apna. Me: Pehle line mein lag ke entry tak toh pahunch jaaun. Mum: Tu line mein kyun lagega? Tune toh exam clear kiya hai na. Me: Toh aap lag jaao. *2 second silence* Both: ha

  Days Homebound  #1 6th Dec 2019 Ok so let's begin with the sphere. The glowing ball. An amplified singularity. The globe. A nomad since birth, I have always found it hard to locate my 'home' on the map. I spent a lot of time trying to do that...and then after years, I realized it was time to roll the map and gulp it down. The universe was expanding and it was time to catch up. And in Delhi, we'd prepare for the launch. Mussoorie was a bubble about to burst. Days Homebound  #2 9th Dec 2019 Corridor is a word that had always existed in our minds I guess. I have no memory of asking my parents, teachers, friends or any other person what was the meaning of the word 'corridor'. It was just there...and they were everywhere: in schools, colleges, malls, markets, offices, mansions. You walked in them, through them, on them, by them while they just dormantly whispered to one of your billion brain cells: 'a corridor..that's me. I'm a corridor'...but you n

[Parapluie is the French word for 'Umbrella'. Why should you know this? To shield yourself from a 'downpour of lingual trivia.'] Paris announced the arrival of Autumn last week with an eight day continuous spell of very rainy rain and very windy wind. The spell continues as I write this. As I write this, the clock in India has struck 12 and my mother has turned a year older. In Paris, she remains 3 hours 30 minutes younger but I have to make do by only hugging the parapluie that I have just found. The parapluie that she had packed in my cargo luggage over a month ago when I was about to leave Delhi for Paris on my first posting. The four weeks that I had spent here were quite comfortable. Shifting to new places, meeting new faces- is like second nature to me (with masks, it is definitely a first. Living abroad is another first). My luggage arrived just 10 hours after Autumn in Paris.  28 cartons. According to immediate need, priorities were clear: Umbrella, rolling pin,

Here is a compilation of words that went astray in my diary.  But 'all those who wander are not lost..'   'Bawaal' Woh bina miley poochte hain kya haal accha hai, Hum bina kahe kehte hain sawaal accha hai. Yun toh keh dein ki sab hai khairiyat  Magar ae Haraf! Chup rehne mein bawaal achha hai. 'Bawandar' Main rehta hoon us talaab mein Jahaan kabhi samandar hota tha Jahaan taare gote khaate the Aur sooraj andar sota tha. Jahaan kabhi kshitij hi kinara tha Woh khud ab kinara hai Jo mook pada hai khud abhi  Wahaan kabhi bawandar hota hai. 'A Teetotaler's Alibi'   Ab agar piyein bhi toh jaam bhara ho paani se... Ye ehsaas-e-maut ke zikr ki koshish mein Kaheen swaad-e-zindagi na bhool jayein.   'Snitch' Mera astitva meri kalam se hai Ye paagalpan picchle janam se hai Abhi waqt nahi mujhe khojne ka Meri shuruwaat khatam se hai.  'Malaal Redux' Malaal toh mujhe bhi nahin Ab jo khud ko tabaah kiya, Par ae Haraf! Tu Haraf hai wahi  Aur woh tha

 Today it's been one year since I joined the civil services. As a history student I tend to give some importance to dates and 'historical causation.' Would like to share something thought provoking with you all. In the photo, that is my Great Grandfather seated between my Grandfather and me. I call him 'budhe dada.'  He could never read or write, but back in 1950s, he decided that even though he had never gone outside his village, his son would have an education. His son (my Dadaji) sent his children to study beyond the district, across the state. His son (my father) took me across the country to receive an education.  And when someone asks me what was the 'turning point' in your life, I think it was that one day in the 1950s when budhe dada decided to send dadaji to school. Now that I explain my Great-Grandfather that I will be working for the country abroad, he doesn't understand. He doesn't even remember my name and mostly forgets even his son'

Let this be very clear. Director Thiagarajan Kumararaja's 'Super Deluxe' is not Tarantino's 'Pulp Fiction.' The latter was a film that came out in 1994 and was considered to be 'a great film about nothing in particular'- the former came out in 2019 and is 'a great film about everything in particular.' Pulp Fiction aged really well and turned out to be a cult classic about 'many things', Super Deluxe is bound to build that status for itself with time and it might go on to be considered a cult classic about 'perhaps nothing.' And that makes both the films some kind of remotely related identical cousins of each other. If that sounds weird to you, then I think you haven't really gotten used to the films.    Both the films have been built from a similar mould. Multiple character ensemble. Genre-defying. Parallel storylines. Crude dialogue. Lot of local travel. And of course, the considerable length of the film.  The opening credits