My Sachin Story

All of us have a Sachin story. For a generation and perhaps even more, he is the thread that runs through so many of our memories. Of faces, people, blurry TV screens, sleepless eyes, cheers, gaalis, of sitting-at-one-place-and-not-moving-lest-we-jinx, clenched fists, pumped arms, spilled Pepsis, crumbs on shirts, smiles, tears, desperation, and elation. This is why all of us feel that we know him, and if time spent simply looking at someone and of being invested in his success is a measure of intimacy, then I suppose many of us would accept that we are closer to him than we are to quite a few cousins and uncles.


Pujo extract from YATRIK (THE TRAVELLER)

The four days of Puja, Anushtup had planned to spend them the same way he did every year, one afternoon lunch with Ma, and the rest of the days a bit of reading, a bit of drinking, and a lot of walking, with only his cigarettes for company. This time though, on Ashtami, the employees at the mall, not just from his store but all the shops on the ground floor, had planned to meet at the Maddox Square pandal at seven in the evening, and though this was absolutely not worth looking forward to, he knew that he needed to be in attendance, just for the sake of appearing to be agreeable.



If pure love is that which sets your heart on fire, which makes you sit up late at night sleepless and panting, then I can say that what I feel for Bedouin Sher e Bengal is that only.

Pure heart-burning passion.


Some Advice For My Daughter

Dear daughter, Dads are only good for two things. Buying ice-cream and dispensing advice. Since the day I can buy you ice-cream is yet some distance in the future, let me start with the advice part. Not that you will listen to, far less understand, anything I am going to say (you are yet to be six months), but then again I tell myself, this not-listening-to-me and not-understanding-a-word-I-say is not likely to get better as you grow older. So why not I say it now when the worst you can do to me is to pull my hair or yank off my glasses ?


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