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Posts tagged ‘Features’

Mar 4

distraction
24 Comments

Writing Distractions

Writing is an enjoyable pursuit, but unless you have the concentration of a monk, there are too many distractions to make it a frustrating exercise at times. I have wasted many a day doing things I shouldn’t have been doing only to rue the time lost. How many times have you been tempted to turn an excuse into a necessity to give yourself a break from writing? How your writing must have suffered as the minutes turned into hours. What are your top distractions? How do you stop yourself from getting distracted? Here are mine in no particular order.

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Feb 24

peacock island
16 Comments

Tablet

Every day around three in the afternoon, the dolphins come to frolic in the waters of the Brahmaputra by the Northbrook Gate. They splash past the ferries, past fishermen singing in their boats, past the faithful releasing their prayers in little canoes of flowers and offerings from the steps of the adjacent temple. It is where I spent countless hours staring at the waves, caressed by a breeze that gave me respite from the grind of city life. Not far away loomed Peacock Island in the afternoon haze. It is the smallest river island in the world and home to an ancient temple and an endangered langur species. Yes, Tablet reminded me of the golden langur, dark and bronzed, and with an unkempt bunch of red orange hair…

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Feb 16

CWC3
7 Comments

The Terrible Itch of War

Wars, without doubt, are the most brutal of human horrors. They are also the most ironic. Last month, a team from Japan arrived in Guwahati to take home their dead from the war cemetery. They came in the winter chill looking for their dead comrades in the thick mist of the Chitranchal Hills. Here, they had rested for sixty eight years along with British, Canadian, Australian, Indian and Chinese soldiers, eleven servicemen, killed fighting British and Indian troops in April-June 1944 in the Burma Campaign. They are a long way from home. Such was their itch for war…

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Feb 8

dark_face_
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My Friend in the Loose Shirt

I saw him for the first time many years ago. Short of stature, a loose shirt wet in patches from the rain, torn sandals on his feet. He stammered something and placed an envelope on my table. I took out the letter, saw the bright red sun emblazoned on top and put it back. What was there to read? The rebels have come to visit. They want a share of my money. “No,” I told him. “I can’t. And I won’t.” My voice quivered as I added: “You can shoot me if you like.” For an hour I spoke. No, ranted. I shouting, he listening with his head bowed. At the end of it, he raised his head. Our eyes met. They were like unpolished marbles, cold and lifeless. Eyes that has seen something of the world and didn’t like what it saw…

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Jan 24

old gentleman
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The Stories Around Us

Everywhere I look there is a story. They are everywhere. These people, their stories. Sometimes they come looking for you. Most times you stumble upon them. Every person I meet has something to tell. They all have been part of their own stories, characters that were born and grew with age. Some lead remarkable lives. Others an ordinary existence. They have made compromises, choices. Now they live their stories every day. I see it in their faces, the way they talk, their walk, their clothes. They are the characters of my life as I am in someone else’s. Not all characters are human.

The tree in front my window has a story of its own…

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