thechaiyears.blogspot.com
The Chai Years: November 2014
http://thechaiyears.blogspot.com/2014_11_01_archive.html
Sunday, November 30, 2014. Delhi leans into me. At the traffic light, the woman with her ankles narrower than my wrists, walks between the cars holding onto her walking stick. This city, it leans into me. You had said at some point, almost as a non sequitur, "only thing I dislike about Delhi winters - it's brutal on the homeless.". Don't take it the wrong way, you say, but I'm looking forward to you going out of town so I can finally get some work done. Posted by Pringle Man. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom).
thechaiyears.blogspot.com
The Chai Years: July 2014
http://thechaiyears.blogspot.com/2014_07_01_archive.html
Sunday, July 13, 2014. People reading unself consciously in public places. A good French braid. The cackle of an old lady's laugh. A dark purple sari with an orange blouse. A much used dari, folded up for now. People in doorways watching the street. Broken buildings with trees growing through them. Knitted sweaters - huge, hairy, warm ones. Holding warm babies to my chest. Rain over the western ghats. Posted by Pringle Man. Tuesday, July 8, 2014. My mother tells me twice, "Give your suit for ironing.".
thechaiyears.blogspot.com
The Chai Years: March 2014
http://thechaiyears.blogspot.com/2014_03_01_archive.html
Wednesday, March 19, 2014. He is going to NDA tomorrow, for the 'Sabhikhi Cup' named after him for inter academy matches. I'm terribly proud of him and to be his grand daughter. I can only dream of coming close to his accomplishments when I'm 85. For now, let's do this twenty fifth year. Posted by Pringle Man. Saturday, March 8, 2014. Tangled up in blue. Ofcourse I will, once the time comes. Posted by Pringle Man. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). I used to be there. I'm also sometimes here. Tangled up in blue.
thechaiyears.blogspot.com
The Chai Years: January 2014
http://thechaiyears.blogspot.com/2014_01_01_archive.html
Sunday, January 12, 2014. Reply to his email sits fat and heavy on my To Do list, only because Not Replying would mean something. This effort, when once upon a time twenty five email thread were exchanged in twenty minutes. Take your time they say, touch trees, look up, look in between. Posted by Pringle Man. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). I used to be there. I'm also sometimes here. It's an Adrain Mole thing. There was an error in this gadget. Reply to his email sits fat and heavy on my To Do .
thechaiyears.blogspot.com
The Chai Years: July 2015
http://thechaiyears.blogspot.com/2015_07_01_archive.html
Sunday, July 19, 2015. Does your mind trick you as well? What else do I not even realize? I sit on my sofa, overlooking the greened monsoon'd leaves of the tree outside. I'm reading, I'm thinking, I'm overcome with anguish. I cannot bear the thought of myself. I cannot bear the thought of being apart from him, of him being with anyone else. Why these thoughts now? Why framed like this? Posted by Pringle Man. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). I used to be there. I'm also sometimes here. It's an Adrain Mole thing.
thechaiyears.blogspot.com
The Chai Years: From Monsieur Ibrahim and the Flowers of the Qur’an
http://thechaiyears.blogspot.com/2014/10/from-monsieur-ibrahim-and-flowers-of.html
Thursday, October 2, 2014. From Monsieur Ibrahim and the Flowers of the Qur’an. Please take your roadside heart back. It isn’t water that is scarce Mademoiselle, but stars. My older brother Popol was another name for my inadequacy. No one can resist me. Monsieur Ibrahim has given me the most potent of weapons. I bombard the whole world with my smile. And I am no longer treated like a cockroach. A man spends his life only in two places: his bed or his shoes. Momo, no answer is an answer. I used to be there.
thechaiyears.blogspot.com
The Chai Years: Would you change?
http://thechaiyears.blogspot.com/2015/07/would-you-change.html
Sunday, July 19, 2015. Does your mind trick you as well? What else do I not even realize? I sit on my sofa, overlooking the greened monsoon'd leaves of the tree outside. I'm reading, I'm thinking, I'm overcome with anguish. I cannot bear the thought of myself. I cannot bear the thought of being apart from him, of him being with anyone else. Why these thoughts now? Why framed like this? Posted by Pringle Man. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). I used to be there. I'm also sometimes here.
thechaiyears.blogspot.com
The Chai Years: An Agastya Sen Afternoon
http://thechaiyears.blogspot.com/2014/10/an-agastya-sen-afternoon.html
Thursday, October 2, 2014. An Agastya Sen Afternoon. Perhaps it’s the weirdness of this existence, this movement from one night at 4S, getting drunk on 3 double rum and cokes and then being in this place, where everything is slower, narrower, calmer, not necessarily better. Perhaps it’s constantly reconciling, the be here now. My afternoon draws to a close and Naveen calls to check in on me and I reply noncommittally. Perhaps we will go for a walk. Posted by Pringle Man. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom).
oneforeachdaysince.blogspot.com
Step.Down.: heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street
http://oneforeachdaysince.blogspot.com/2014/09/heart-leaking-something-so-strong-they.html
Thursday, September 4. Heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street. Leaving is not enough; you must. Stay gone. train your heart. Like a dog. change the locks. Even on the house he’s never. Visited. you lucky, lucky girl. You have an apartment. Just your size. a bathtub. Full of tea. a heart the size. Of Arizona, but not nearly. So arid. don’t wish away. Your cracked past, your. Crooked toes, your problems. Are papier mache puppets. You made or bought because the vendor. Murphy, the...
bayessaid.blogspot.com
p(A|B): February 2009
http://bayessaid.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html
Where fear is without a mind, and high heads hold themselves Where freedom never is knowledge, And the fragments of the world are used to make domestic walls. Sunday, February 22, 2009. It is rarely the occasion that everything fits well enough in a movie, that one has to actually sit and dig through fuzzed memories to find out what didn't fit. Dev.D. What can you say about a Bollywood movie that begins with the hero asking the heroine if she touches herself? Image Courtesy : businessofcinema.com. Filmin...
