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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Old, forgotten tales of love Woven by lowered eyes Few of which you understand Glances and gentle sighs.Not destined to receive, The love you hanker for, That act demands largesse And pain worth dying for.Those lips may never touch And fingers never weave, Nights not turn to evenings And hearts never heave. But nothing less […]
When hope leaves you Like a drop sliding on a leaf, Like a bubble bursting anon; When fear of loss, Stalks you forever and ever; When in the sunshine of hope, Despair follows you Like your own shadow; When time creates furrows on the skin And cracks in relationships; Then…. Even the pen […]
That dark swirling path That goes on chasing its tail that takes you back to where you began what would it say if it could speak? It would say.. It’s not the path it’s you you need to find something new.. you..maybe? *** Reema Moudgil has been writing for magazines and newspapers on […]
In search of the subtle The gross is lost So is the prose, in the search of poetry Trudging up the hill The mountain breeze heals the mind The soul yearns for the peak The body..for earth.. In search of the miraculous The mundane is lost So is the form, in the search of essence […]
Silence the conch shells stop the dhakis at their drums the winter air this festive season nips sharp for the writer’s gone. His pen that spilled over into thousands of words and more will write no more. The writer whose words could make my father’s voice mellow and ruminative when he read him out […]
Undo each moment till the closure. The memory of his hand in yours. Undo every memory you shaped. Every dream in your mind that you taped. Undo the ‘I will be here forever’ Because there is no everafter. Undo the want to be his. The need to make him yours. Togetherness. And its cause. Undo […]
An idea, waiting to happen. where we think big, aim small try hard, or not at all we see the future bright, we see the future sharp we see it as a vision clear, straight from the heart And sometimes.. just as a.. snapshot, an opinion, a word, a blog That’s what India is all […]
So it really isn’t about asking seeking fearing questioning doubting waiting hoping wanting ** or hiding in that noisy room with our thoughts that chase each other till they get tired and fall into a wordless darkness. ** or the drama of denial the spectacle of anger the little betrayals of who […]
In the beginning there was the jungle with dark trees grinding the earth with their vengeful roots and sudden fires that even when they were too spent to rage hissed vengefully from ashes. Then a path broke free of the tangled fear and pain and found itself and the light. ** Then there […]
It is just this nebulous, breathy, wispy thought no, not even a thought for thought has contours and edges and a pulse.. this is not even that.. just smoke of Ghalib’s aah Maybe something even more undefined just the beginning of a thought too afraid to know itself or to take a deep breath and say,”I […]
Nothing speaks to me more than a pine tree and its misty breath and a sunflower and its fresh scrubbed face of hope and that moment in time when the evening is a pale rose with its petals around everything even the thought that it is not enough and the thought that maybe it […]
This rapture called life I am a sucker for it Moment after moment I succumb to her Pulse after pulse she engulfs me This obsession called life I am her victim With carnal craving I hold her Swiftly and stealthily she dodges me This drug called life I am her addict Consciously.. unconsciously I […]