Till last year, I didn’t know who Paul Fernandes was, though I had seen his artwork all over Bangalore, occasionally colourfully covering up a bland restaurant wall or even an old space. I loved his »
Around 9am on Sunday morning as I walked to my nearby slum where I teach yoga to superbly enthusiastic kids every week, I saw a poster hanging at its entrance. Rajnikanth’s smiling face jumped out of »
Let me confess something first. I might have written books for kids, but till now hadn’t interacted with them much. Not the ones who are in the 9-13 years of age. Actually, not many at »
Not so early in the morning, I look down from my third floor apartment. There’s a lady sweeping the dead-end road. I know her, though I don’t know her name. She wears the official BBMP »
She’s naked, covered with ashes, her hair matted with snakes in them, a garland of skulls and freshly cut heads around her neck. She laughs like madness herself, dancing to the chaotic rhythm of death, »
I don’t really know his name. Never need it I guess. The conversation with him happens because we cannot find a parking spot. It is eight in the night on a road near Commercial Street. »
Last Sunday I took a friend and her nine-year-old daughter to Bull Temple in Bangalore. It’s the place with the country’s largest monolith bull – known to be Nandi, the servant bull of Shiva. The majestic Nandi »