Que Sera Sera

The five-year-old in the picture smiled like only a child could. The smile had no reason and no rider.

Did he know what his future held? The joy, the heartbreaks, the insurance policies, the mortgage, the let-downs, the thrills, the world. Did he realise that his smile was being frozen to warm tougher times.

I looked at the picture of the smiling boy. He looked like me.

Green Prince

Purple Rain in a dank green room.

The colours of Bandra in my time capsule.

Life is just a Word

Do you want to save changes to your life?

Life and cigarettes

Every morning when I step out into the London freeze to smoke my first cigarette, I see my neighbour jog into the mist. It should make me guilty except that I know that we will both die one day. Where is the justice, really.

Face of Fear

As BA487 knifed through the Catalan sky for an emergency landing in Barcelona, I saw the face of absolute fear. In the midst of hysterical wailing and rabid anger, she sat across the aisle from me. She didn't look terrified, she wasn't fervent in prayer, she just sat back in shell-shocked resignation.
We all survived BA 487 with not much lost than good humour. As we waited to be evacuated post touchdown, I looked across the aisle at her. In the midst of hysterical laughter and conspiracy theories, she sat there in absolute acceptance.

No ice in my water please

I live far away from home. In a strange country, amidst strangers. I don't fit in and yet I fit in. Funnily enough, I am comfortable with strangers, it is the vaguely familiar that makes me nervous.
Indians who have been here longer than me constantly remind me that I have just gotten off the boat ... just because I don't drink my water with ice and lemon like they do. "Oh, that's so Indian," someone remarked. After I stopped throwing up into my ice-less water, I smiled. "Funny how Indian I am, considering I am one."
But yet I fit in. Because I am part of a cosmpolitan world. And I am cosmopolitan not because I bought myself an accent, it's largely because I had an education. And there is a difference, you see, ice in water lady.

Open

Agassi's autobiography Open is way more exciting than his tennis. It's done so rare you can almost taste the blood. Read it. Now.

Fire and Ice

The burning jealousy in the room set off the fire alarm. But is there a compressed chemical that can douse a green-eyed monster?

Is there an H in Tuesday

There is no 'H' in Tuesday, I tell Leo who is drawing alphabets with a chalk on the menu board. "Thuesday Special" reads his work.
And so I help Leo write his Italian menu on his cafe's blackboard ... crab cakes and seafood spaghetti, sundried tomatoes and sundries. Was great fun I tell you. The last time I put chalk to blackboard was in Algebra class and that wasn't pleasant. They didn't give me a free Capuccino either.

So long Patrick

A dead movie star is everybody's favourite movie star no Patrick?

Scene from the street

He looks at the snotty, wailing kid tugging at his jacket. I can't tell if it's pity or disgust. I can't even tell if they are related. He shrugs and holds out the sandwich. The soot breaks on the kid's face as he smiles that happy smile. Little hands reach for the sandwich and drop it. Meat and potatoes on the sidewalk. They walk away in hunger, hand in little hand. It's another day in the city.