May 01 2011 Issue

The Scent of Ripe Guavas
Dibyajyoti Sarma

Yet, even after so many years the smell of ripe guava stirs in me the pangs of unrequited love. I'm talking to someone, and suddenly the smell assails my nostrils. I can sense each fibre of its coming and going in the air.

The Colour of the Sky
Ritu Monjori Kalita

I had always loved bright sunny days from as far back as I can remember. Where I grew up, it rained most part of the year. It rained hard, incessantly, for days together sometimes.

Experiences of Simplified Living
Mythili & Brinda

Every now and then, we face compromises on the choices we have made, such as when close family complains that we're too simply dressed, or the children hanker for junk food, or people are inconvenienced by us not owning cellular phones.

A Gift of Gratitude
Payal Dhar

I almost buckled under the weight of the bag. How had she been managing this so far? Whatever did it have inside, stones? Sharp edges poked me as I hefted it on to my shoulder.

Nirupama Subrmanian

When I stand on top of this heap of gravel which makes a small hill at the side of the road and close my eyes, I can almost feel that I am in the sky. The balloons I hold in my hands are my wings. They pull me up, up into the clouds...

Tale of a Corpse
Anu Kumar

Kept... what exactly did that mean? The question nagged him, as that night too he waited under the banyan tree. For everything in life has been ordained, written out by someone else's hand for them, but what did "kept" mean?

Siddhartha Choudhury

It was then that she began to howl. She started meekly, but soon her voice rose, drowning all other sounds, and forcing us to silently bear audience to her endless sermon of melancholy.

Chatting with Kavery Nambisan
Vijay Nair

"I love my work as a surgeon and I also love my writing... With medicine, you study the science once and hone your skills over the years. But as a writer, each book is different. You tap a different side of yourself with every new book." full interview

Beautiful Gallipoli
Sreelata Menon

It is a fabulous beachfront, serene and green... It was here that Kemal Ataturk won a decisive victory for his people in what is now famous as the Gallipoli Campaign.

The Mispaced
Swetanshu Bora

Grandpa drives well. Well, I guess at thirty kilometres per hour anyone can drive well. But he hasn't had an accident in twelve years, at whatever speed. It is of course, infuriating for other people, because Grandpa likes to drive in the middle of the road. full story

Flight from the Bastions
Mira Desai

On the fifth day after the full moon, the sun had blazed brighter than usual. That was before the roar of the demons, for that was the crumbling, shaking earth had sounded like.

The Poder of Goa
Ashwin Honawar

Every morning, Goa wakes up to the familiar honk of the neighbourhood Poder or bread seller, who begins his rounds at 5:30am. Mounted on a bicycle... a Poder delivers a selection of five different breads fresh from the ovens...

Somnath Mukherji

It was all because of Humaira that their life was finally beginning to change. Her tiny fingers with tinier nails, her miniature nostrils, the creases on her little thighs and her curling hair, she was such a godsend!

Sharath Komarraju

He seemed to have, in my eyes, about as perfect a life as any man would want. He had riches, he had a loving family and he had perfect health. He did not have fame, but that was because he did not want any.

My Tale of Tibet
Anita Kainthla

Once I began, though, I realised how grossly I had underestimated the enormity and complexity of it. But now, there was only one way to move, and that was forward. It took three years for me to write the last line of the book,...

Lonar - A Heritage Site
A K Bhole

When we reached... the crater itself was still submerged in darkness. We stood on the edge, savouring the mysterious silence until the first rays pierced the dark cover and revealed the immense size and beauty of the crater.

Light Stuff

Recipe: The Last Word
reeta mani

A Walk in the Park
nilesh bakhle


Afternoons are my favourite slots,
That crack in time between two and three pm...


Carrying the tools of his trade
my boyhood barber
came to our home
to settle an atavistic score...


India - a woman with a high
Price on her head and feet
That seem to have frozen
While pirouetting.


and later,
lying on his bed, he thought of how her
hair woul feel on his face
soft and fragrant


If the souls He made were not split into thousands I wouldn't know who I was


Cover Page

May 01 2011 Edition
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