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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The roots they say must be pulled out for dreams to stop blooming and die but what if the root is a dream? How do you stop a dream from dreaming itself? But yes, dreams are like conversations if you don’t engage.. they die that is.. if you want them to.
Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night with words playing out in my head. If I don’t get them down, they disappear in around five minutes, so I’m thankful Evernote exists! Last night, this is what I woke up with… I thought you were a song, And I played you Over and […]
Images fly by. Trees and dogs, cows in alleyways, people. We catch familiar expressions…disgust at highly priced onions , the sly smile of a pickpocket, the anger in a girl’s eyes at the man who just leered at her, anxiety in the man’s as he waits for the daughter to cross the road and reach […]
The beat of drums, leads the thumping of my heart, The clouds bursting against one another; awaken the heart with a start, The flute pumps waves of melody seamlessly into the air, Peacocks dance in the rhythmic rains, as love pours down, along with streams of care, The strings of violins, invoke memories of love and […]
Your dreams tumble, Caught by delicate Silver cobwebs. Time slips by, and you think You have only so much time, Desperate, seeking, Running out of the time That you have allowed yourself, To find your dreams, shaped into real things, Things you can hold. But dreams are star dust And they sprinkle Over your universe […]
There is a song that is wanting to be sung. There is masterpiece that is waiting to be painted. There is a life waiting to be lived. There is this song in each of hearts. A yearning which is never quenched. And in some ways we are all learning to listen to that. When I […]
Thank you 2011.. For showing me that dreams can come true… they may take time, but you must persevere, hold on to them, and have faith. For showing me that once dreams come true, it’s not the end, but the beginning of another dream. For teaching me the power of staying in the present moment. For helping […]
The Gods would have taken one giant stride to reach Dunagiri from Almora, I took the road less travelled. A road that unravelled through fields governed by the Kumaon Mothers of the Earth, all of whom are busily engaged in turning the tapestry of their agricultural blanket into the rich colours of autumn. Grasses and […]
A writer came to me with a script today and his own story was more interesting than the one he had written. I might have offended him by spending far more time listening to him about his own search for recognition than listening to the reams of material on his laptop he tried to engage me with. This young boy […]
It’s because I grew up in the last century, my romantic vision of myself as a nice little grey haired old granny who lives in a cottage that is always ripe with the smell of cakes baking belongs back there too.That was my grandma. She grew flowers, baked delicious puddings and granted me the absolute freedom to run barefooted through her village and spend long days fishing or idling in a tree with a book in hand