The sudden sound of the doorbell jolted me out of my reverie. It was the mailman with all the usual stuff – the electricity bill, a couple of mails wrongly delivered to my house owing to the confusing house numbers, and letters from relatives back home in India containing pictures and details of prospective Punjabi suitors. Sigh. They’ll never really give up trying to make me marry a man of their choice, I thought. More so, now that they thought I had learnt my lesson. Tossing away all the envelopes into the waste bin, I settled into my favorite old reclining chair facing the woods beyond the glass walls of the living room. I had taken to sitting here most of time that I was awake, looking out at the wilderness with a calm state of mind, unthinking, completely blank.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Apparently, trolling is fast becoming a trend within the published writers' community too. Many modern Indian writers are taking digs at people in their books these days (don't know about foreign writers). I was reading this book The Secret of the Nagas by Amish Tripathi the other day, and as I turned to page 186 and read it through, I was really in splits for a good five minutes. Wondering what was it I saw?? Take a look: