Our eyes glowed and cheeks were radiant, laughter rang and words flowed wise. Actually it was like any other table of middle-aged drinkers where a lot of wine has been consumed. The dinner I was hosting for my friends who were musicians from Greece and XXX – whom we will get to know in time. We sat in one of the better restaurants overlooking the sea along the cliff; I call ‘better’ because it had real plants, even on a wall garden and a library. Books, especially mouldy ones, make
Gushing waters froth stories. When set amidst lush landscapes, the viridian violence can give rise to some very haunting ones. Sarojini Omanakuttan remembers a few with moist eyes, though not exactly a shudder – toughened by the wildness of office, nothing is shook enough for her. She pointed nonchalantly to a spot outside the wayside shed where she sat keeping an eye on visitors, guiding some and sharing stories with the solivagant. “It was exactly three years and three days ago when the engineering student drowned over there.” The spot
My favourite pastime while riding public transport in Kerala is listening to conversations of co-passengers especially when they are talking into their mobile phones. Then, this is like saying the bomber decides to die as his ticking torso goes off – there is not much choice here as they practically declaim into their devices. And this isn’t due to the engine din or network issues: my fellow folks love to be heard and to display publicly that somebody is actually listening to them. “I’m on my way to Angamaly,” went
