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(Written in early June) It is 1.30 in the afternoon. The sky is washed out and blinding, no particular colour
The wind that blows into my balcony comes salt laden off the Arabian Sea. It is a cool shivery breeze
It started with the pomelo. The fruit was delicious one year, pale green, dimpled and fragrant on the outside, pink
A quarrel of sparrows caught my attention this morning. Curiously, they were perched, almost a dozen of them, on the
The trees lining Marine Drive promenade are survivors. Some of them are Banyans, others the ubiquitous Badams and coconuts and still others I have yet to identify. The ones with the headily fragrant silky blooms – silk cotton? Read More- >
200 rainless days in the city I still call home. A friend writes these words to me. What does it
(Written in early May 2019) It promises to be a cruel summer. The birds have fallen silent today. I too
The cyclone passed by the city a few minutes ago. It is expected to make landfall further up west tomorrow.
And suddenly this morning, a lowering sky. The clouds scudding in from the ocean are gun metal grey. Early morning
(Written in March 2019) It’s spring! Even if temperatures are hovering in the ominous high 30s already, the birds of
