tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-310098642012-02-01T19:17:23.737+04:00The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.comBlogger1401100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-32482590067488804842011-12-28T13:47:00.004+04:002011-12-28T13:50:20.974+04:00

There's a hungry, mean lion in the small of my back Mane in my right hip as its tail whips my left. Sometimes it reaches through my pelvis Into my womb, Slivering it in half; no anaesthesia. Two green beastly carnivores Rest in my knees. They eat cartilage and chew on my bone They stretch those thigh-long limbs in square-centimetre space Consuming, delivering, leaving pain Post-its. A crazy

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-52315895346508496832011-12-28T02:23:00.001+04:002011-12-28T02:35:56.027+04:00

She drifted away with his cigarette smoke before he could catch her Imprison her In a green glass jar. How long will you be gone, he asked, Not looking up from violent but quiet scribbling in his book. His pencil plundered a stick figure, a dead flower. Till the silver on my anklet fades Till black doesn't hurt anymore Till when the ship sails off my shoulder Then I'll be back for more, she

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-23676168851260845402011-12-03T01:39:00.001+04:002011-12-03T07:37:40.966+04:00

So in unprecedented stupidity and colossal absentmindedness, tonight, after a fantastic party at a friend's place, I drove off leaving my beloved phone on the roof of my car. Here's what happened. All week, I'd been looking forward to this party for one reason only. I had officially taken up the responsibility of taking pictures for this do. A friend moved into a lovely home and had enough

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-61512201518332461092011-11-19T10:24:00.001+04:002011-11-20T13:28:27.389+04:00

*Warning: Long, self indulgent post. Read at your own peril Anniversaries. They are a strange thing. They remind you of how far you've come and suddenly the thing you are celebrating, or mourning, as the case may be, seems like something that belongs to another life. You are, sometimes, so far removed from that thing that you once held so precious -- even if it's pain because that,

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-604333199331487952011-11-09T13:53:00.001+04:002011-11-10T12:05:07.962+04:00

I was reading this piece the other day and it came at a time when I'd been particularly sensitive to misogyny in various contexts. As I read this, a realisation that had been waiting to show itself shone clearly through a lot of the things that I had been thinking about. You don't have to go as far as high numbers of teen pregnancy, dowry deaths or street sexual harassment to know how deeply we

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-15133157967697206562011-10-03T17:58:00.002+04:002011-10-04T11:50:41.704+04:00

She continued staring at the TV screen as she did every afternoon when the rest of the house went down for a nap. A regressive show played on with every day bringing barely any movement in the story. Despite her superior sensibility, the habit-loving part of her had gotten used to watching this baseness on TV where blood warred with blood, where love meant being a doormat, where the children

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-65590621340158797832011-09-29T14:22:00.000+04:002011-09-29T14:22:52.032+04:00

Dear September, I cannot claim that I will be sad as you go away. I cannot even pretend I liked you in any small measure. You were long, unending and excruciating. If you brought some measure of cheer in you, apart from the fact that you left me alive, I would have had some regard for you. I am grateful for life, indeed I am, but when there's an invisible army of things that marches on some very

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-90794782356343185052011-09-03T14:02:00.002+04:002011-09-03T14:40:09.610+04:00

(This is a work of fiction)  What’s a good love story made of, he asked her. Every kind of extreme, she said. But that’s bound to end, he countered. Would you rather it went on for ever, she asked. “I like love stories to have an ending, preferably not the ever after kind,” she finished and continued to stare into the sea. Afternoon waves ate up the silence that the finality of her preference

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-34238301734305749842011-08-15T12:40:00.001+04:002011-08-15T12:46:08.491+04:00

I have absolutely no cause to complain about anything in life. Honestly. Maybe just an untoned, post-baby stomach but otherwise, I really am a lucky girl. Here’s why. This morning, my three-year-old comes running to me, in post brother’s-birthday-party bliss, and kisses my stomach – yes, the same aforementioned untoned cause of complaint – asking if she could have some kisses. Really?! If that

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-17857476199192833372011-07-07T17:58:00.000+04:002011-07-07T17:58:03.730+04:00

This is a work of fiction ***** My mother isn't too happy with me these days. Nothing I do could make her feel better about her being a mother. In effect, she isn't happy with herself. I mean, what good mother would end up with a daughter who was all that I was, right? Where had her parenting gone wrong? Why wasn't her daughter the epitome of all that potential-fulfilling daughters are? My

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-80391933065545755002011-06-09T17:59:00.000+04:002011-06-09T17:59:38.814+04:00

I am going to outrage a bit here, so take your judgementalism, and go watch a movie with it. I read this today. For those of you who don't (or can't) to read what's behind that link, let me sum it up. A 50-year-old mum gifted her daughter a boob-job voucher for when she turns sixteen. Her daughter is currently seven. Now, my mum would easily say in her usual practical-sense style that that's

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-50364283501818244812011-06-07T17:38:00.001+04:002011-06-07T17:40:16.335+04:00

 I was tagged with this by the very lively Sue last week. But because I am splendid with deadlines, I am doing it this week. So okay, then, the tag is to tell you five things that motherhood has taught me. a. Ever since I became a mother, I have realised that motherhood is as important (or not) as you make it out to be. If you think it is your most important role in life, then that's the kind

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-89086830448532050622011-05-25T13:46:00.003+04:002011-05-25T14:20:55.126+04:00

The other day I saw a man speak very rudely to a woman at a supermarket. There were other people watching but that didn’t stop the man from being rude and mean to his wife. I couldn’t understand the language they spoke but their bodies and expressions spoke a lot louder than their words. In the end, when it looked like it was dying down, the woman grabbed the shopping cart jerkily and started

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-29888048749371133372011-05-16T14:12:00.002+04:002011-05-16T14:26:34.712+04:00

This is fast turning into a mummy blog I see. But never mind. This morning I ran out to an assignment, finished it, went to school to pick up my daughter and brought her back home. Without prompting, this beautiful child of mine said, “It made me very happy that you came to pick me up, Amma.” My heart was glad when she said that even though I had a bit of a tiff with someone close this morning,

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-81778567916368515932011-05-07T08:32:00.001+04:002011-05-07T08:33:24.580+04:00

I wrote this piece here. Cross posting it here. Also, head on over there are read more love for mums.  *** I try not to make too much of a deal for mother's day, although last year I got my mum a pretty silver ring. Like I said, I try not to. After all, how is it fair to put your children in a position to do something for you, many times with them not wanting to because they don't believe in

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-74156286662297622292011-04-11T16:52:00.001+04:002011-04-11T16:57:12.389+04:00

Once you’ve borne children, you can never go back to feeling perfunctorily sorry for something terrible that happens to children. The kind of sadness you feel on hearing some child somewhere has had to suffer something terrible when you don’t have children of your own lasts perhaps a few days, or maybe a few weeks if you’re deeply empathetic. But then it goes away. Not because you are mean or

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-56954857858301636882011-04-09T16:45:00.002+04:002011-04-09T16:43:17.408+04:00

Update:   Last evening, I took my toddlers out to play. We stay out a long time because a) the outdoors are a great way to get healthy and find wonderful new things and b) I like to tire them out like that so they sleep well. Because, really, as a mum and a working one, there's only so much you can take in a day. But that's a different story. It was a Friday (as you know it's the Arab world's

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com148tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-56790410695022801082011-03-26T12:20:00.001+04:002011-03-26T12:33:31.613+04:00

Every time someone has said women are their own worst enemy, I’ve shaken my head in vehement disagreement. Every time someone’s said (usually a woman) that men are “lessy bitchy, more honest and less complicated” I’ve found arguments to counter each of those adjectives. I’ve quoted mother-daughter relationships; I’ve flaunted the example of my aunt who raised two stunningly-behaved boys with the

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-73719064826654864692011-02-01T18:02:00.001+04:002011-02-01T18:07:28.320+04:00

I once had a wooer. I found him when I was in the college union and had to find a judge for one of our festival competitions. He was in the Indian navy, looked lovely, and sang like a dream. For those of you who know me, you should know that the only reason I didn’t rip his clothes off and devour him whole was because I wasn’t really interested in sex till much later on in life and thought men

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-53999661563668236802011-01-24T14:10:00.003+04:002011-01-24T16:56:10.218+04:00

So, call me masochistic but I am ready for a third baby. Bio-rhythmically, that is. In every other way, this is complete insanity. I don’t have enough money right now to make my family a single-income one, I don’t have manpower to look after kids in case I do have a baby and go back to work, and I definitely don’t have the kindness to have another year of sleeplessness or to breastfeed every two

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-79400328527851789572011-01-22T12:10:00.000+04:002011-01-22T12:10:14.006+04:00

I am hunting for a new look for my blog. And in over enthusiasm, I tried to revert to something simple while the design was being pondered upon and done. Hence the complete mess. Excuse it, please. And read instead of looking around, for a while. Love.

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-41995093338941378522011-01-17T13:05:00.001+04:002011-01-17T13:08:31.557+04:00

Of course, you love flirting with me.I make good conversation, take care of my hairFingers, feet and breath. I have a pretty smile You could parry intelligently with meAbout most things, except maybe frogs or chemistry.I know a little about a lot of things. I fake it well I will tell you I’ve enjoyed having dinner with you,And acknowledge privately that the wine is helping my charm.The night is

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-1775416548483529012011-01-15T16:49:00.002+04:002011-01-15T16:49:33.701+04:00

Thank me for all that I've done for you,Only if you will forgive me for all thatI've done to you. You asked me if you will do.And in what I believed was honesty,I said you would. It could have just been our kisses. Maybe I meant your smile was nice To wake up in the mornings to,Or maybe I meant you'd look great with me When we go out. Perhaps I meant I'd earn for both of usIf you were a

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-2185115045160722692011-01-13T11:28:00.001+04:002011-01-13T11:28:54.556+04:00

I was in Kerala few weeks ago, in Cochin, where my daughter and I went out to lunch one day. She’s 30 months old, rather pretty (I say this as statement of fact and not with any conceit) extremely expressive and animated. An hour into our time at the restaurant, another guest who had been watching us for sometime walked over and said he was a ‘director’ and is currently working on ad films; would

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-70701196561352771132010-12-08T11:21:00.002+04:002010-12-08T11:27:28.398+04:00

It's the sun that worries me, seduces me with its heatLike you do with your promises that we can do anything.I believe you just as I believe summer will come And kill the crocuses I have planted for you. My knees are stretched taut, the skin on them shinyAs I sit with my legs tucked under meLooking for rain in the wind-herded clouds. I watch a green arm of the MeenachilThat flows so close to

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-16681309964544001502010-12-04T12:11:00.001+04:002010-12-04T12:14:23.020+04:00

You know how you look at a couple sitting at a restaurant and wonder exactly what their relationship is? Whether they're married or just seeing each other? Colleagues or friends? You watch a family rushing somewhere, all dressed up and wonder where they're going. Is it s wedding, a party, do they like these people they're going to meet? If you have no idea what I am talking about then just

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-6040923269988537072010-11-27T17:48:00.001+04:002010-11-27T17:52:51.469+04:00

I’ve been moping. Moping like I have never moped. My chin and spirits have been in competition with my level of tolerance of SMSese. I’ve lost something huge. Possibly the biggest loss in my life till date, barring the death of my grandmother. And when that loss is coupled with the realisation that I am partially responsible for it, you will understand that where I am is not enviable at all. So

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-7401183153236829352010-11-21T21:37:00.000+04:002010-11-21T21:37:22.481+04:00

I Today, the moon, content, smug and stark white, pasted itself on a dark sky, hanging benignly between two craggy mountains. And if there was one perfect thing in the world right then, it was that. For, everything else in my world right now was like watching tomatoes in a blender. You could see bits of my life shattering and tearing, pieces of red and a little yellow splattering the lid of

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-17488222339812805472010-11-19T01:33:00.002+04:002011-06-22T03:50:37.040+04:00

I found you dusty and unkempt, under a carpet of ordinary lives. What should I do with you, I thought. You, a reluctant gem, you sleeping genie. Should I dust you off and set you in my ring? Or should I let you be to sleep peacefully, Happy, content, unawakened? Could I give you hand-mirror, I thought, Just so you saw your fire, your deep red rareness? And then kiss that flame to life only to

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-83049783666586849952010-10-11T05:09:00.000+04:002010-10-11T05:09:09.357+04:00

Maya Sharada's departure and the dusk ending its ritual left an empty box of space in my evening. For so many days I had been alone -- by choice -- that when someone came and took away a bit of the solitude, I was surprised to find that I was grateful for it. And that's when I knew my grieving was near its end, that the worst of it was over. You see, if I've given you the impression that I was

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-90764311365353583422010-09-13T18:26:00.001+04:002010-09-13T22:25:03.826+04:00

Sharada When it rains heavily I always think of an evening that glows like a bright lamp in my memory. An evening of paddy whispers and a ripe-mango sunset, an evening where, I like to think, the birds called my name and that was all the sound that you could hear, apart from the restlessness of the breeze and the incessant prayer of a river, a little away. Before dusk stole onto the mud patio of

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-8868207911452845332010-08-28T15:14:00.000+04:002010-08-28T15:14:27.352+04:00

I like how everyone has a complicated, technology-involving passion these days. All around me, all I see is "i can't breathe without my iPod" "i refuse to bake the cake without my pedometer" "photography is my passion."  The world and its sister is now on FB, which in itself is a huge leap for hitherto technologically-challenged ladies and gents. I am all for aunties and uncles getting on FB and

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-90623141498736615232010-08-22T02:59:00.000+04:002010-08-22T02:59:41.501+04:00

I've ignored him often enough here to warrant questions from concerned readers if everything is okay. Let me assure you it is. Very much. He's still the funniest, most intelligent man in my life. But this time around, I am touched beyond description by his thoughtfulness. I'll be honest, readers. It's not been an easy three months. We've been through some troubles and things have been very

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-39548439989607196872010-08-17T18:04:00.001+04:002010-08-18T11:50:02.421+04:00

"I admire the way you inhabit your life. You don't seem to care whether other people approve." - Mamah Borthwick "We all have our little battles going on inside,"                                                                                   - Else Lasker-Schuler                                                                                               Loving Frank by Nancy Horan.When I

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-64771817598739739152010-08-11T18:02:00.000+04:002010-08-11T18:02:15.136+04:00

... whether you like it or not. Many people take parting well. I don't. This fantastic woman is going away and I am sad. I haven't known her even a year. And I think I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I have actually met with her. But her friendship to me is proof of the fact that you don't need to spend a lot of time or know a person too long before you fall in love

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-53754386534069065172010-08-10T13:52:00.000+04:002010-08-10T13:52:19.150+04:00

Don't sigh in relief yet, my BB friends in Oman. Telecom Regulatory Authority just might ban services, yet, even though newspapers this morning might tell you otherwise. No doubt, all of you have heard about this fuss with BlackBerry in the Gulf Arab region (specifically Dubai and Saudi Arabia) and to some extent India. As of this morning Times Of Oman put this story out (syndicated from Reuters)

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-1754715255100816302010-08-08T18:05:00.000+04:002010-08-08T18:05:27.678+04:00

I have never explored love other than by flippantly looking at the confusing, often foolish concept of a happily ever-after in my poetry. If there’s one thing I know, love shouldn’t hurt. But it does because it is inextricably linked with a thing or a person. And it shouldn’t be. But then, if it isn’t, how is it possible that the object of your love, your intense passion, will know that he is

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-55268651079416043832010-08-07T15:17:00.002+04:002010-08-07T16:57:51.396+04:00

Call me a big city girl who can't do without glittering lights and a little late night madness, but Salalah was dull for me. It's gorgeous, make no mistake, and if I wasn't going on work, I probably would have enjoyed it some more. Although, here I must say work didn't take too much of my time there but the fact that I had to keep my senses peeled to pick up stories there kind of ruined it for me

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-49033060683751521632010-07-19T22:23:00.002+04:002010-07-19T22:27:22.537+04:00

So OmanAir thinks people in economy class eat a lot less than those in business class.  For reasons best known to me (I’ve been waiting to use that phrase and sound all important for a while now) I haven’t flown economy in a while.  On Saturday, I was on a flight to Salalah in economy. I was told I was the last person to check in and that dovetailed perfectly with my bafflement at the seat number

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-14511378330579682542010-07-14T14:22:00.003+04:002010-07-14T14:36:50.455+04:00

So I've been tagged by two people on the same tag. The very lovely Quicksilver! and the thoughtful Goofy Momma. The tag is, basically, this. I am to write down 10 things that people of my gender cannot do/should not do/have never done.This is a tough one to tag me with because, as my regular readers (all five point three of you) will know the lines in my head that divide things are pretty

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-13109560463366012672010-06-29T16:31:00.000+04:002010-06-29T16:31:48.126+04:00

I've meant to do this post for a while, and no, I haven't I misspelt the title. As you will doubtless know by now, I go through life with perennially failed brakes. I take very sharp turns and I almost always rely on my smile and my incredible good luck to keep me from becoming roadkill. There's never been an instance where I've slowed down, parked and said, wait a minute -- look at the map,

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-23742101983271054532010-06-26T02:26:00.000+04:002010-06-26T02:26:18.871+04:00

For as long as I can remember, the only person I call by a pet name is my brother. Everyone else, however close they may be to my heart -- and I've been blessed with several good people in my life -- I call them by their given name. My best friend from school is still to get used to it, I think. And I've known her 22 years. I like to think that a name is more than just a tag to identify a

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-3023237214950451262010-05-27T16:34:00.001+04:002010-05-27T17:03:58.079+04:00

Cut the smokers some slack, okay? It's bad enough that people, especially women, wrinkle their noses and start lecturing you about the ills of smoking the minute you pull a stick out. Now, like a bunch of brainwashed dominoes, one country after another is falling for the smoking ban. Look at what smokers have to face. Apart from tolerating really disgusting pictures that manufacturers have to

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com43tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-35703691219794733232010-05-27T11:30:00.002+04:002010-05-27T17:00:08.314+04:00

I cannot bear to watch Indian TV news. I will do so only because I have to. But because I am a contrary person, this post is about defending Indian TV journalism. Being a print journalist, I have never felt the fascination for television many others I know feel. Us journalists are like that -- one or the other, almost never both. And especially since I know how easy it was to get into (I got

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-49118463477221167272010-05-12T15:15:00.000+04:002010-05-12T15:15:33.239+04:00

And my writing is on a freeze. Some stuff to blog about  but I've been advised to wait. Till then, here's what I've been  up to.  1) Picking up my reading habit. 2) Enjoying the kids. 3) Practically getting no sleep. 4) Losing some weight. 5) Thinking about living on another planet. This completely pointless post was so that you guys don't think I died.

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-52785229555748750122010-04-26T16:11:00.001+04:002010-04-26T16:34:36.700+04:00

A school mate of mine, who I think I'd like to be friends with now, told me on phone recently that she has been a stay-at-home mum for about four years now, since her daughter was born. This girl, as I remember her from school, was bright, sociable, dedicated, focused, had an excellent work-ethic and hovered somewhere at the top of our class. I think she had ambitions to do something in the

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-85267956742638006342010-04-22T17:23:00.001+04:002010-04-22T17:51:19.227+04:00

.. With the husband. So, we were talking about an issue that's pertinent but not unspoken about, not too serious but definitely deep-reaching. I said to him, "Why don't you do a post on my blog? You write so lucidly." He: "So do you, my love." I: "Oh no, your writing is far superior to mine." He: "If I am lucid, you are lucid in the sky with diamonds." {P.S. I am not going to have to explain

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-64686422097374991862010-04-20T15:23:00.001+04:002010-04-20T23:52:16.834+04:00

I don't LOL. I am not an ROFL kind of person either. And I definitely cannot BRB. Call me stuffy, call me old, but I'd much rather key in "yahahahha" to express my mirth than use acronyms. LOL for instance: It's become such a ... thing... that people don't even think before using it. Most places, I've seen people just smile, but actually type out LOL. And, hold your breath here, I've actually

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-64579685388757189922010-04-17T16:10:00.001+04:002010-04-17T16:10:56.398+04:00

My post, "Stop Calling it Eve Teasing. You're being molested, not teased" was chosen by Blog Adda as one of its Spicy Saturday picks. While I would have preferred a more happy topic to have been chosen as my first form of blogging recognition, I am nevertheless happy that more women and men will read this and hopefully be affected by it.

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-53996529747814430032010-04-14T12:36:00.002+04:002010-04-14T12:46:20.647+04:00

This website essentially is peddling a birth-control pill that allows you only one period every three months, which is about four periods a year. Does that sound healthy? Should we be meddling with nature so much? Should women really experiment like this with their bodies? Scariest of all, what animals have the developers of these pills experimented on to get the results they've got? I, for one,

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-37587958837353909452010-04-11T16:46:00.001+04:002010-04-12T17:39:33.342+04:00

Edit: My real real English language grouse. It's centre of attention, not centre of attraction! Please. Please, I beg you. ***** My  husband's been in town for a week now and it breaks my heart to think how much the kids have missed him. We were at the airport waiting for him; my daughter was squirming, struggling to run away and threatening to drink someone's leftover coffee when I grabbed her

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-86303705618735952502010-04-11T08:09:00.002+04:002010-04-11T13:50:40.754+04:00

Who said the Omanis are a shy lot? You think I should get these contact lenses to up my sex life? Seen at Muscat City Centre, an optician's store. Edit: Am I the only person who found the tagline completely inappropriate?

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-64361841320850710982010-04-05T17:57:00.002+04:002010-04-06T15:35:24.190+04:00

High school was a terrible time for me. Perhaps, all of school was a painful time for me. Now when I hear people say school days were the best days of their lives, I wonder what I missed out on, because, truly I will not have another childhood. Or at least one that will take me to high school. I have absolutely no bonds with school friends that I cherish to this day. They are all bonds that are

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-14052339051490964962010-04-05T11:14:00.000+04:002010-04-05T11:14:24.749+04:00

I decided to play with my blog. How does everyone like the new look?

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-31290838668768024772010-04-03T18:22:00.002+04:002010-04-03T18:28:36.791+04:00

After my two attempts at banishing these women from what's very much my door step, I am thrilled to announce that it's been two weeks now and the women are not to be seen. I can't tell you what a relief it is. A sad thing I heard, however, was that a young Indian girl is being held captive in a villa and is being prostituted. She's moved from house to house every five or six days so that the

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-5814571793663412662010-04-03T15:54:00.003+04:002010-04-03T17:06:16.413+04:00

I met up with the girls over the weekend. The restaurant that we sat at, I think they'll run the next time we come by. We did everything from harassing Jonathan, our waiter, to join Facebook so we could all add him to discussing seriously twisted weight loss methods. Women are always eating, even though we complain about being fat. But how can we not be fat, habibi? We're always eating! Here's

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-54631806750141594572010-03-29T18:21:00.000+04:002010-03-29T18:21:15.055+04:00

Dear M, Because you are six months old you have no idea who your parents are. As you grow up, you'll turn one of the two ways. 1) You'll spend the rest of your life wishing and praying fervently to god (yes, you will believe, because your mother will make sure) to give you a set of parents that are normal. My advice is don't wish too much for it. To your regret and utter disappointment it just

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-71659294659448935402010-03-29T13:21:00.002+04:002010-04-04T16:46:45.895+04:00

It rarely happens in my life that two people who I love are married to each other, unless it is someone in my family. So I consider myself extremely lucky to have as friends a wonderful couple who have been married to each other for 10 years. I will not mention their names here for many reasons although I am sure they wouldn't mind for the most bit. Being a mother to two children, I am beginning

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-32290298001835711962010-03-28T12:42:00.000+04:002010-03-28T12:42:17.262+04:00

An enterprising woman in my apartment got us all to participate in the earth hour last night.  And it was such good fun. We switched everything off, the moon was gorgeous, it was warm and the gusty wind was hot but togetherness, icecream and tambola right there in the front yard made up for absolutely any discomfort. It feels nice to know that we contributed in some way. Even though as Indians

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-47202241561061277592010-03-28T11:11:00.000+04:002010-03-28T11:11:21.404+04:00

Who is it that ranges, occasionally, The quiet distances of my mind Reminding me of songs I'd rather forget, Of a yellow rose that fell me Of that first year of deceit - Yours and mine? Who is it that sweetly stabs My eyelids awake So that I walk-wake-live-die Till I see a skewed sunrise And dyslexically construe Today for tomorrow or  Yesterday for another life? - Me

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-59697595503060694542010-03-27T14:56:00.000+04:002010-03-27T14:56:52.433+04:00

Being a journalist is not easy on my pocket. Bad enough they pay my tribe badly, even though for most of relevant history, people couldn't dream of beginning their day without a newspaper. We should have just gone on strike long ago and said the IT guys are coming, so start paying us well or go find your own news. But because most of us have a social conscience and an ego the height of Burj

The Restless Quillnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-58301480372033270802010-03-25T13:36:00.002+04:002010-03-25T13:39:34.373+04:00

So after a week of obsessing over how to get the working girls to get out of my face in a very official and permanent manner, I decided it was best if I came up with creative solutions to the problem. They're back, by the way, and while they aren't at my gate, they're close enough for me to be (a) mistaken for a hooker, (b) for one of the kids to be abducted (c) for my guests to be embarrassed

The Restless Quillnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-36437101924750289252010-03-23T23:34:00.002+04:002010-03-23T23:48:58.901+04:00

I was just thinking things will be okay for a while and there those women are again today. Not at my apartment building perhaps, but pretty darned right next to it! I took some pictures and they fled. Tomorrow I am going threaten them with the police. I need suggestions on what more I can do. I am pissed off as fucking hell.

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-12202944549474344072010-03-18T16:10:00.000+04:002010-03-18T16:10:25.297+04:00

I thought long and hard about this post. Whether I should do it or not, even how. But in the end, it became something that I just had to write about or it would take something away from me. Two nights ago I did something that I wouldn't have expected of myself. I took the side of organised, well-placed, safe society and its inhabitants over the fringe-dwellers, those who risk more than a limb or

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-43355261585502011642010-03-13T14:18:00.001+04:002010-03-13T14:31:53.396+04:00

I know I am supposed to do my second post in the Faking It series but that's taking longer than necessary. So Excuse me, my thirsting millions. Meanwhile, I love tags. So much that I just lifted a tag off here and am doing it because I am so secretive and I feel too exposed if I say anything about myself without a reason and this tag is such a wonderful way to express myself without feeling like

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-80680183438139801902010-03-10T18:22:00.003+04:002010-03-12T01:32:46.558+04:00

You can fake big breasts, a degree, a marriage. You can even fake a job. The one thing you cannot fake is sophistication. For that you've got to be born with both sets of grandparents - okay, maybe one set will do these days -- who knew the word and breathed the virtue. If you weren't genetically blessed, then you've got to have been born into money so they could send you off to finishing school.

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-55546211347698442972010-03-10T00:09:00.001+04:002010-03-10T00:49:43.947+04:00

Posting my pictures. My flower pins. My surme daani. Clarins Wonderlength Mascara My current second favourite. I have one in grey which I think my daughter ate. Otherwise I used to talk dirty to it in Spanish when I was alone. My latest miracle cure. Superb toner. Also Clinique lipstick in Paprika and L'Oreal Glamshine. You guys have seen this one before. Foundation that I rarely use. Eye

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-16001762755783382732010-03-09T01:34:00.001+04:002010-03-09T11:46:09.102+04:00

I absolutely adore beauty products. Little pots of swirly, nummy-looking cremes that I first want to eat and then put on my skin. Sleekly packaged bottles of potions that don't need to try hard at all to make me pick them up. Little rectangles and squares of colour that I can paint my face with. Lipsticks, don't get me started on them. I love all of it. Where I'd readily disbelieve Mathew if

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-967299467397497842010-03-06T13:37:00.002+04:002010-03-07T11:06:01.755+04:00

Another one for my Muscat readers. Send some love to Omantel for the Dragon, folks. I just emailed them requesting an unblock. Can I urge you to do the same? Update: Muscat Confidential is back after 12 hours of internet censorship. Yay.

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-76170280630820671442010-03-04T16:35:00.003+04:002010-03-05T20:06:09.183+04:00

My driving instructor is crazy. He tells me stories that will probably get me into trouble one day if I don't firmly tell him that I don't want to know. He yells at Asian women through his window who, for a fraction of a second, veer to our side of the road. ("Eh, ni hao, wrong side!") He claims to have downed a full bottle of vodka (which, he says, has "no smell") and then about 6 pints of beer

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-34048603979939497652010-03-04T11:24:00.000+04:002010-03-04T11:24:02.218+04:00

The Way of Tea, or more commonly, the Japanese tea ceremony is an art. I got lucky enough to get a live demonstration by a very unassuming Japanese ambassador's (to Oman) wife, Mrs Yoshiko Morimoto, last morning at the ambassador's residence. She's a lovely woman with excellently styled salt-and-pepper hair. Her smile is lovely, her eyes delicate, warm and she wore a kimono that I would easily

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-73995977232474161582010-03-01T18:26:00.000+04:002010-03-01T18:26:06.705+04:00

Survery of thievery in Muscat, Oman. So my non-Muscat readers, do excuse me and wait for later today when I post another smashing edition of "life and times". Till then, all of you who live in Muscat but haven't already gone over to Suburban's blog and read her latest, do so now and do the needful. Wishing you all weather devoid of hail, massive rain, tsunami-like alerts.

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-66675527846840378452010-02-24T18:29:00.001+04:002010-02-25T00:42:45.098+04:00

How nice to have just about half the world talking about you. Nicely. Those of you on twitter will know exactly what I am talking about. Here's a bunch of things that has appeared on my twitter home page by various fans. "Now I know what god really looks like. He's 5'5", maharashtrian and plays cricket! Tendulkar Bappa Morya!" "Sach intertainment" "I saw history made today" "Yay" (me) "This is

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-31580425928570711942010-02-22T12:20:00.007+04:002010-02-22T13:06:51.952+04:00

A previous post I can't find stuff that Jeet Thayil has written his post-America era. I don't think these are from then but they could be. And my copies of his books are back in India. If you can find it, please read Shape-Shifter. It is my favourite. Read this interview and understand yourself why I lust after him. If you know me well enough, that is. If you don't: His "weird co-passengers

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-51277102742679327812010-02-22T08:00:00.001+04:002010-02-22T08:00:00.383+04:00

Ingredients: One part favourite teenage Mills and Boon (however corny); two parts bad body-image issues from Bridget Jones's Diary; one-third parts each of forced situations, some wit and a happily-ever after. Method: Put it all together and stir till you get sufficient word count, throw in windingly random chapter-heads, misquote the epigraph (a quote from Anais Nin, no less),find a dogged

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-29668324399075690002010-02-20T15:48:00.006+04:002010-02-22T12:11:25.474+04:00

A.K.A Unsolicited advice to aspiring poets. 1 Do you use the word 'yonder' in daily conversation? Even once? No? Then don't use it in your poems. Which takes us to point #2 2. Don't try and find a word that rhymes with it. You'll only come up with 'wonder', unless you want to use 'blunder', 'thunder', 'torn asunder'. I thought not. 3. Don't rhyme if you have to cut, colour, spit and polish

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-86653005513286185622010-02-20T11:52:00.004+04:002010-02-20T18:50:44.234+04:00

There was a reason I have never read Anita Nair. When I first heard of Ladies Coupe (Penguin India, 2001) in 2002, I was interested firstly by the fact that a relatively young woman had written a book that was being widely talked about. I was also interested because I saw her picture and envied her for her curly hair and high cheekbones (yes, I've been brainwashed into the marketing ideal of

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-85050802171334536802010-02-14T10:55:00.002+04:002010-02-14T10:56:18.352+04:00

Do not stand at my grave and weep,I am not there, I do not sleep.I am in a thousand winds that blow,I am the softly falling snow.I am the gentle showers of rain,I am the fields of ripening grain.I am in the morning hush,I am in the graceful rushOf beautiful birds in circling flight,I am the starshine of the night.I am in the flowers that bloom,I am in a quiet room.I am in the birds that sing,I am

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-33351491583678407192010-02-11T13:55:00.001+04:002010-03-01T12:26:48.752+04:00

Mathew is a thoughtful, talented, sexy, funny individual with a big golden heart. Add to that a skill with music and he really had me at hello.We both belong to the same zodiac, we both love chocolate, wine and women (what?!) and our offspring. We both also refuse to let things be ordinary for too long. If you are thinking I have the perfect life, you're right. Except, we live, for the moment I

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-32229545634886506822010-02-10T11:19:00.000+04:002010-02-10T11:19:09.074+04:00

This title of this post was what was in my mail this morning. How can it not make someone's day? .

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-54941969418212822672010-02-09T15:24:00.000+04:002010-02-09T15:24:43.785+04:00

I've been meaning to write this post for a while but haven't been able to do it without sounding ingratiating and over-zealous. I love Omani women. I would leave this post at that but that would mean leaving those of you who read this (and don't live here) in the dark about why they're lovely. You'll agree women world over are lovely. What makes Omani women so special is their fantastic sense

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-14034829918385881272010-02-07T14:42:00.001+04:002010-02-07T15:11:21.196+04:00

I love pictures. Mine, others', taken by me, taken by others. All kinds. My favourite way to spend time on some days is to go through photographs that capture the heart and soul of some thing, place, person. This picture is of one of my windchimes. At last count I had 10 -- bamboo, terracota, ceramic, some strange alloy, plastic, now this. Yes I collect them. This one is my favourite I also

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-24707946529097460072010-02-06T17:18:00.003+04:002010-02-06T17:53:54.826+04:00

It is the pictures. I had two weddings. I would think that that would be more than enough for most people, unless they are Elizabeth Taylor and I hear, even she's getting sick of it these days. But, as I figured recently, I am not most people. Therefore, I want one more wedding, this time to do it all right (groom will be my current husband, FYI, so I can safely concentrate on other things).

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-91136226935267580712010-02-01T15:05:00.001+04:002010-02-01T16:14:55.998+04:00

I came across a fantastic mommy blog. Yes, I used both those words in the same sentence, so imagine how good it would have been. I added the link to my blogroll and voila! it disappeared. When I tried to go back and find it, it said the blog was protected and I  had to log in. I did it a hundred times and still no Mad Momma. So Mad Momma, mum to the Brat and the Bean, if you ever come to my

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-38117435314459406942010-01-30T11:40:00.010+04:002010-01-30T12:18:47.063+04:00

So when I am in the mood to create or lose, I sign up online for all kinds of things that I know I shouldn't but do all the same because, well, I am just addicted to finding new things. If nothing else, they're great ruminating material for new story ideas at work. On one such day, after a cousin very charmingly told me, when he met me after a long time. "And you, why are you like this?" His

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-55274403368153083632010-01-29T15:59:00.000+04:002010-01-29T15:59:56.646+04:00

So here's what I've been doing when I have time from work, spending time with my girl, taking care of my boy, washing bottles, cleaning up rooms, following up on stories and chatting with the husband. Here's what I used to create the necklace. And this And this is how it turned out. The scarf too. Yes I am accepting orders :)

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-60033090035653189902010-01-27T14:14:00.001+04:002010-01-29T08:57:17.804+04:00

What do I like about having turned 30? I like that I have mellowed in all the right places. I am still impulsive and I still am careless about who I make friends with. But I am also careful about judging someone. I am slower to judge, but not as slow as I'd like to be. Increased libido and opening up of sexual worlds. It helps that there's a husband on the scene to oblige. You still look like

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-23945884153790253362010-01-26T17:03:00.000+04:002010-01-26T17:03:14.012+04:00

Shit. This was all that was bloody freaking utterly stupidly needed. I mean, really. Even those people who sit and name craters have lost their mind. Nonsense. NONSENSE

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-54065414004679923632010-01-21T12:32:00.001+04:002010-01-21T12:36:07.535+04:00

I don't like mommy posting, hence I don't have a  baby blog, although I have more than enough fodder for one. But this I couldn't resist. I found this when I went looking for Shyama when she was quiet for more than one minute.

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-90381257260110974342010-01-20T17:12:00.002+04:002010-01-20T17:53:00.684+04:00

Here's my contribution to the burgeoning posts that you can find online about  Malayalee names. Specifically, Malayalee Christian names.  I can already hear M saying it's not like Malayalee Hindu names are all that much better. I agree, but he has a family friend named Swingly (a lovely old gentleman, I might add) and a sister-in-law named ....erm.... Titty (not so old, not so lovely and not

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-54668263466609893942010-01-13T17:59:00.000+04:002010-01-13T17:59:13.662+04:00

Every time I come to Kerala, I leave without eating the fish that I hear so much about. Eating fish in Kerala is as much about the way it's made as it is about the fish itself. So while fresh fish IS made at home, I always have the urge to try it at restaurants, shacks and tiny 'fish meals' places. This time, leaving without eating out was not an option. A balmy night, great company and a nice

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-52752064063114489132010-01-13T17:46:00.002+04:002010-01-13T17:50:52.488+04:00

I tell you grandmothers have the best recipes. Or I don't know if they have the best hearts. The other day, mine decided to indulge me with prawns. I am used to prawns being fried in a spicy paste of red chilly powder among other things. So she decided to show me how it was done in her day. So 2 kilos of luscious-looking prawns found their way into a large pan where G'mummy put in a generous

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-60215409029091216232010-01-05T14:57:00.000+04:002010-01-05T14:57:15.999+04:00

Can you believe this supercilious crap? I don't get this woman AT. ALL. And for those of you who are wondering why I read it in the first place - here's my explanation for now and eternity. I read everything I can about Bombay. Even by someone as unfortunately popular as De. God! Because I like the time for an involved, neatly written post, I doing the easy thing. A list of completely random

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-27817849667460073902010-01-04T11:46:00.000+04:002010-01-04T11:46:39.534+04:00

Did you know that celebrating the new year on January first is completely arbitrary? There is no religious significance, there's no astrological significance, nor anything to do with seasons or harvest or the moon. It's just a random date someone chose to have a lark. Ever since I found out, I've been wondering what celebrating new year on the 29th of June would be like. Ignore that. It has

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-45116662300943402892010-01-03T11:26:00.000+04:002010-01-03T14:08:03.412+04:00

It was about four years ago that I resolved to not have any new year resolutions. Mostly because I was doing it because ...well... I didn't know any better (wow, two becauses in a sentence. That's a new low even for me). Every new year, I'd think of a really bizarre list (i WILL lose weight. i WILL not bitch. i WILL not buy shoes endlessly. i WILL learn to like Tom Cruise. You get the picture.)

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-84328242880222102952010-01-02T17:27:00.001+04:002010-01-04T09:03:01.240+04:00

So, a new year. The last one just sort of flew by for me. We all say it every year but last year beat most other years for me. I lived with a sense of impermanence, a sense that made me feel that I had to keep my bags packed and ready to go. Sometimes, I wonder how I became a mother of two (yes, for those who don't know Utkarsh was born August last year and is now a bonny lad of 4 months) in

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-5786482631437940012009-05-27T17:54:00.001+04:002009-05-27T18:10:21.554+04:00

It is that time, my darlingWhere we take our walkBecause, of course, it is a such a beautiful dayA day with the salty promise of rainAnd wind with a death wish.But mostly because our lies are caught outYours and mine.Our 'i love yous' and tender assurances Of joy and forgiveness, of kindness and compromiseAre a drizzle already, a prelude to this evening of rain.We had vowed, once, to be

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-82859768033373560582009-02-27T18:20:00.001+04:002009-02-27T18:50:27.221+04:00

If only I had that extra set of armsLife, as I know it, would have been a different boxing match.I'd field life's punches and stick in some of my own.I'd feint and hook; I'd counterpunch And maybe even learn to do a bolo. If only I had that extra set of armsI'd have known how to handle what life throws at meWith just one retreat into my corner.I'd handle unemployment, a surprise baby and angst of

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-27612417173180170932009-02-23T09:50:00.000+04:002009-02-23T10:10:37.265+04:00

I had to say this. I don't think too much of the Oscars, on principle. Somewhere I don't know, however, is an awareness that, well, these awards are a sort of a big deal. I just didn't realise it till this morning when I saw Resul Pookutty and A R Rahman accepting theirs. I've been saying it often enough that I don't think Rahman's music needs the validation of an Oscar win. But when I saw this

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31009864.post-4195748760853697872009-02-13T16:46:00.000+04:002009-02-14T10:44:14.572+04:00

This is a nice change, no?Every St Valentine's Day I vacillate madly between wanting to do something special for M, writing a scathing piece (yawn!another one) on the futility of the way this day is celebrated today and finally, completely ignore the day. I've done all three, I'll admit. But this year is nice. I haven't heard a single person griping about how much soft toy makers, jewellers and

The Restless Quillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08053854810427756673noreply@blogger.com1