In 1979, Basu Chatterjee made Baaton Baaton Mein and unobtrusively brought to us the dating and courtship rituals of a community that was till then either caricatured or just overlooked in Hindi cinema. Nancy Perreira and Tony Braganza…
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Matriarchal manipulation in a patriarchal world is depicted unsparingly in Usha Priyamwada’s Pachpan Khambe Laal Deewarein (Now playing on Prasar Bharti). The mother resentful of her lecturer daughter’s comfortable life in her college residence because the younger daughters…
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“Start with hope..always start with hope. We went from being a shitty team to become one of the biggest dynasties in the sport and all it needed was one match to light this fire,” says Michael Jordan at…
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In 1947, my grandparents brought three children and the remains of an uprooted life from Pakistan to India in a train. One of those children was my mother. I grew up hearing a lot of stories about the…
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Three documentaries streaming right now show the ultimate culmination of the Bois Locker Room culture. And what happens when one gender is taught to mistrust its instincts of self-preservation and the other does not even learn something as…
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In Sudip Sharma’s Paatal Lok (Now streaming on Amazon. Co written by Sharma, Sagar Haveli, Hardik Mehta and Gunjit Chopra. Directed by Avinash Arun and Prosit Roy), India’s disowned inhabit the headlines we turn away from. A young…
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It is not dice,
its my life.
Just can’t play autumn and scatter my little self.
Who will gather me back in my bag of life?
Time rushes, gushes and changes.
Balm the wounds, bandage the pain.
While the world thunders on,
catch the silence of soul,
steal a few hours from the clock
and sleep on.
Sarab Sri Kaur was brought up in Chandigarh, educated in the UK and today runs Training Cafe, a small venture where she nurtures creative learning using original and individual techniques.
When identities With sharp piercing contours Wound and injure The ‘odd-men-out’ When free-speech or free- will Is mother of all sins; Don’t look at my words They are either not words, or Not mine anymore. Words, thrown at you, Pushed in your mouth, For gains unknown to you To pacify one, hurt another Unnerve you. […]
There’s a tree in my neighbour’s garden And inside, I see a nymph. She’s trapped within That rough, grey bark. Frozen. Heart still beating, Eyes still seeing, Mind still racing. But they will slow soon too. Years later she will forget. Another form, she’ll take; A reverse metamorphosis Eyes still seeing Heart still beating. Only […]
The pain of men Is the crux of noir It’s why girlfriends Are found in fridges The pain of men Is stoic Quietly eats away at the men The pain of men Drives revenge epics Fuels classical tragedies The pain of men Ennobles, somehow The pain of women Is everyday Everywoman And when it is […]
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Your poem always contains an overtones of pain and isolation. Nowhere I find silence of soul better pictured than it is in your poetic lines.Wounds and pain cannot be fully bandaged, or balmed. Our life as you have truly observed is full of tears and smiles are rare “hashina ek , anshu hazaar” (smile is one , tears thousand)
choti se zindgi aur khawaishe bahut.har khawaish pane ke choti se chah.