I am told that he was getting a little better. He was brought home. He smiled and asked after others. And then he quietly slid into the sleep from which no one ever awakens. It is still difficult to process. I sense the loss of not one man, but of two men, who had been … Continue reading In memory of an uncle and a poet.
An internal matter: brilliance in design.
I have just returned from a very long business meeting. Having extricated my feet from a pair of painfully fashionable shoes, I’ve put them up on a sofa. My watch and belt are on a coffee table, my suit jacket is on the sofa, and my shirt sleeves are rolled up. Wherever I travel for … Continue reading An internal matter: brilliance in design.
A heavy burden
The day had been quite uneventful. I had gone to work in the morning and returned in the evening. After returning, I had gone with my son to our regular park for some much-needed playtime. At the park, it was much quieter than on other days: it was, after all, just before a major holiday. … Continue reading A heavy burden
Why don’t you have your husband’s surname?
Today, my wife and I went for our routine eye-check. Both of us were told by the optometrist that our eyes were getting worse with age, that we should eat food with plenty of antioxidants, and that we should wear prescription sunglasses whenever we venture out in the sun. In addition to these scare tactics, … Continue reading Why don’t you have your husband’s surname?
The case of the burning child: spontaneous human combustion?
One morning last week, through a friend on Twitter, I came across a shocking piece of news in The Hindu, arguably, one of India's finest newspapers. The story entitled "Rare medical condition sets Chennai baby afire repeatedly" detailed the peculiar case of an infant who allegedly caught fire spontaneously shortly after birth. According to the … Continue reading The case of the burning child: spontaneous human combustion?
The man in the park
There is a man we meet at the park, just across the street from where we live, every day. He sits on a bench and looks at others who briefly share this public space. We come with our little boy to play. We exchange smiles him. There are others who also come to the park … Continue reading The man in the park
Tagore and the language of children
I have long held the opinion that if translation is difficult, translating Rabindranath Tagore's poems and songs from the original Bangla into English is nearly impossible. Part of the difficulty is inherent in the language and cannot be circumvented easily by any translator: for example, Bangla, like many other Indic languages has three forms of … Continue reading Tagore and the language of children
Medical writing in the time of cholera
Pity poor Allen Webb, stationed in Calcutta in 1848, after two major pandemics had wiped out hundreds of thousands of people, having to draft his textbook- the monstrously named Pathologica Indica; Or, The Anatomy of Indian Diseases: Based Upon Morbid Specimens, from All Parts of the Indian Empire, in the Museum of the Calcutta Medical College, … Continue reading Medical writing in the time of cholera
Of failed marriages, waiting rooms, and cups of tea
Do failed relationships reach a point when they snap? Or is the end gradual, like the loss of magnetism of two bodies that do not attract or even repel each other, but simply exist in a shared space? What remains when a relationship ends? Once it is all over, is it possible to ever truly … Continue reading Of failed marriages, waiting rooms, and cups of tea
On rereading a book
Reading a book again is like revisiting a vacation spot, which is now frozen in time. You remember exactly what you enjoyed when you first visited. The anticipation of what will happen next is long gone, now replaced by a careful eye for detail- the choice of words, the flavors of particular scenes, and the … Continue reading On rereading a book
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