tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80833952011-07-08T04:14:08.144-07:00kalpananoreply@blogger.comBlogger411100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-76378407125992966762011-02-17T11:34:00.000-08:002011-02-17T22:49:57.486-08:00

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kalpananoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-71611029049264563512009-09-25T07:47:00.000-07:002009-09-25T08:00:30.077-07:00

A slightly longer version of the review that appeared in 'The New Indian Express'.Faking it? Yes! Yes! Yes!The pink and purple chick-lit cover deceives you into thinking you can settle down in a cozy corner with a copy of 'Faking it' for a quick read. What you’ll need is a somewhat large settee to accommodate a comprehensive dictionary for easy reference. Or there's always dictionary.com, but

kalpananoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-5000693060476372652009-08-29T02:17:00.000-07:002009-08-29T02:18:36.666-07:00

thank you for the sustenance and of course, the diamonds thank you my undying faith that the bedbugs will have their wake for the boy angel who sleeps at night and the brat he turns into at light thank you for the cozy apartment and for someone to pay the rent thank you for keeping the love alive and knowing that it’ll never die thank you for the brief separations and superfast

kalpananoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-22444332759808396172009-08-05T10:38:00.000-07:002009-08-05T10:58:16.756-07:00

This review appeared in The Sunday express in more or less the same fashion.One reads the title and sighs, lemons, mangoes, poppies! Another Indian novel serving varied flora. And that too across 600 odd pages. Well, the suspicions turn out to be right with 'The toss of a lemon'. In the sense that it's about a family tree. But that's where the similarity ends. That's also where other similarities

kalpananoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-64476000916461887122009-08-05T10:35:00.000-07:002009-08-05T10:58:49.196-07:00

An edited version of this review appeared in The Sunday Express.If Houdini ever made a film about Big Brother, then how would it be? Would it be magical? Would it be a reality show? Improbable as the situation is, my guess it would be a bit of both. If it were really good, it would be like 'The Other Hand' by Chris Cleave. The high brow might call it Magical Realism, Rushdie might phrase it a

kalpananoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-23928616266100100812009-08-05T10:29:00.000-07:002009-08-05T10:56:47.287-07:00

'There is a way to be good again' wrote Khaled Hosseini, the resounding refrain that gently suggests redemption, in the Kite Runner. Redemption, he has no need of, as thousands of readers will agree, but he sure has lived up to that statement with his second novel 'A Thousand Splendid Suns'. Is it good? Yes. Is it splendid? Most definitely. It could've been a story about two struggling

kalpananoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-73201117465877362942008-03-18T23:41:00.000-07:002008-03-18T23:43:29.442-07:00

Pitter patter pitter patter Rain drops plop down A drizzle at best With a dash of salt On a weathered palm That shook many a paw Waiting for the torrent Of a few, measured drops From a dried up spring That once gave freely Is now happily barren The gland is tired and worn out And now sterile from overuse The pump is losing steam From years of upheaval The right brain is numb From

kalpananoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-4663575863207020802008-01-03T04:56:00.000-08:002008-01-03T21:29:21.874-08:00

to say that the new year 2008 started happy for me would be incorrect. because it was the old year that ended happy, giving way to a rather happy new year. of course, owing to the fact that we decided to go on a holiday a couple of days before the new year began. which in due course will no longer be new, but hopefully happy.in coorg, with my family, i had a blast doing all the things i would’ve

kalpananoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-12746489876538931012007-12-27T21:59:00.001-08:002007-12-27T22:06:31.842-08:00

it's ironical that i wrote what i wrote yesterday http://mememarathon.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-memory-truly-thing-of-past.html. because today is a day i must not forget. and i did. i forgot my dad's 5th death anniversary.

kalpananoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-64021162535976041302007-12-27T00:33:00.000-08:002007-12-27T01:10:03.472-08:00

my earliest memory is that of my first birthday. a distinguished friend of my parents gave me a rather large (and not just by a one year old’s standards) box of sweets. i don’t remember if i actually took it, but vividly remember the shape of the box. it was round, had an indented lid and it was light coloured. i remember the time when i was four and the neighbour’s dog bit me. i remember eating

kalpananoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-22727284471174339352007-12-26T09:15:00.000-08:002008-01-18T01:13:31.377-08:00

i’m just trying to look like i’m doing something sitting at work late night, while my art director is slogging it out right next to me. i’m hoping she can hear frantic typing of the keyboard and think that i’m writing some kickass copy for an accessory leaflet. and now that i have started typing, i suppose it makes sense for me to write about what the hell i’m doing here.in advertising i mean. i

kalpananoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-34781280146950761222007-12-26T06:36:00.000-08:002007-12-26T07:24:44.263-08:00

this post is a long due tribute to the person who initiated my blogging career (one that never really took off, i must add). i'm going to start by vowing to seriously start blogging regularly. and i don't mean with the regularity with which we meet up. i know you probably keep dropping in to my page to see if i have updated my blog, and more importantly my thoughts. let me assure you, my thoughts

kalpananoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-15761390983396571122007-09-16T08:50:00.000-07:002007-09-16T08:54:13.556-07:00

from all the wisdom i have gathered in the 27 years of my life, i have reached a rather obvious conclusion. that we all live our lives alone. not with parents, children, spouses, live-in partners or pets, but alone. it is incidental that we are constantly surrounded by people. that we even beg, plead and threaten to have our own space. even ironical, actually. because at any given point in time,

kalpananoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-73033688432030342962007-08-26T11:52:00.000-07:002007-08-26T11:54:47.171-07:00

“To date, many of my plays have been interpreted erroneously by foolish and self-serving people.”- says Vijay Tendulkar. I don’t doubt him one bit. The very article it appeared on (http://www.thehindu.com/mp/2007/08/18/stories/2007081850930400.htm) is a lucid illustration of the quote.To say that I was disappointed by the review of one of Vijay Tendulkar’s best plays would be a grave mistake.

kalpananoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-24107206759581856182007-06-13T05:00:00.000-07:002007-06-13T05:01:26.295-07:00

I love going to work. Before you start thinking that I’m one of those over-enthu first bencher types, let me clarify. I like ‘going to’ work. By that, I mean the process of getting from home to office. Because I never know what that process is going to be like.On some days when my husband is feeling particularly vengeful, he throws his well-used diesel car at me, challenging me to maneuver the

kalpananoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-6005341838044726842007-06-11T03:24:00.000-07:002007-06-11T03:26:17.808-07:00

The inevitable has happened. It took a longer than usual, of course, but it has happened nevertheless. I think I have grown up. Before you start laughing, let me explain why I have come to this grave conclusion.1. I don’t enjoy rock music anymore. Not like I used to, at least. I actually laugh (to myself) at the music my out-of-cradle colleagues play at work.2. I have actually started listening

kalpananoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-65147559025703337892007-05-31T03:16:00.000-07:002007-06-08T03:08:48.310-07:00

once again i'm inspired to write. read a colleague's blog, and its explicit yet innocent revelations make me wanna write. i don't know what it is with writing and inspiration. why do i ALWAYS need inspiration to write? why can't i just be 'self-motivated'? if you know me, you must've figured i have no clue what that means. does it mean that some people find inspiration from within? or just are

kalpananoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-12475039834925197652007-04-23T22:54:00.000-07:002007-04-23T23:45:17.805-07:00

come back, says the childhood. you still belong here. and bring that son of yours too. so he can see how you were. and still are. and how u shouldn't be. how he shouldn't be. what you should've read. and what you shouldn't have. who you should've loved. and how you should've been loved. that you should've gone to school a year later. should've skipped college. and how u should have grown. that

kalpananoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-9139751938252614352007-03-18T13:24:00.000-07:002007-03-18T22:05:41.607-07:00

it only takes a moment in life to decide on most things. one flightful/frightful moment to fall in love (though it takes forever to make that work). one startling moment to decide who you want for a life partner. that may also be the moment you realize you don't want to die alone. one grave moment (or several) to decide on who (all) will not be your life partner. this is not to say that these

kalpananoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-74972789656789298822007-02-27T02:53:00.000-08:002007-06-18T03:27:37.345-07:00

I’ve always been something of a looker (and it’s not just my mirror that says that), and I have a decent enough body (even post pregnancy, yes), but that day it was not about the way I looked.It was a slightly chilly evening, the kind that makes you wanna grab a hot cuppa or a hot bod or whatever… I’d just had a warm shower and stepped out of the bathroom dressed quite modestly, in a towel. And

kalpananoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1142932112104511962006-03-20T22:59:00.001-08:002006-03-21T01:08:32.116-08:00

this post is written in a state of shock. shock that i had to delete a number from my phone book. and this time it wasn't because that person was no longer my friend, but that this person would never answer my calls again. this person would not answer anybody's calls again. i'm in shock that one amongst us has left. for good. passed away. died if you will. and not just anybody. somebody who was

kalpananoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1141906757911591972006-03-09T01:40:00.000-08:002006-03-09T05:04:47.083-08:00

being indian in bangaloreinspiration strikes in the strangest ways, and this time it was in the form of my friend laila (whose form i remember in great detail:p).so i was cribbing on how uninspired i was to write, and she gave us a topic (she's writing now as well... i trust). reluctantly i agreed to the topic, which by the way, is 'what it is to be an indian'. in all of my 26 years i have never

kalpananoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1128510048479241372005-10-05T03:59:00.000-07:002005-10-05T04:00:48.486-07:00

God gave us looks (or at least to some of us), he gave us talent (ditto), he gave us brains (I’m tired of repeating myself), and then he gave us (without exception) nails. Quite conceivable (for those who have them) as to why he gave us the rest of the attributes, but nails? I mean, they cost a bomb to maintain, if you happen to be a particular colleague of mine, and nothing at all if you happen

kalpananoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1121342094721583082005-07-14T02:45:00.000-07:002007-06-18T03:08:12.434-07:00

i know the feeling only too well when you know you need to talk, but don't know what to talk about. for instance, at meetings (hope my boss isn't readin this), at family get togethers with people who in no way feel like family, and yes, at parties. quite a pity that is, considering i'm supposed to be creative and a writer at that. and writers in general are supposed to do more talking than

kalpananoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1118914025730772042005-06-16T02:26:00.000-07:002005-06-16T02:30:34.073-07:00

‘What does it matter?’ ‘That’s all that matters’ ‘No matter what…’ ‘as a matter of fact’ hey, waitaminit, what’s the matter with ‘matter’? Why doesn’t anyone say ‘what does it energy?'? One would assume, quite naturally, that when matter and energy are considered quite equally important by well known, eminent physicians (names haven’t been mentioned not because of promised anonymity but because I

kalpananoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1116586865941251362005-05-20T03:10:00.000-07:002005-05-20T04:03:22.140-07:00

people keep asking me 'how do you like bangalore?' and i always reply with a saccharanine smile 'i LIKE bangalore', like i'm trying to make a really emphatic point. which by the way is true. but as a resident in the city for the first time, i see how different the place is compared to home. which, of course, is good ol' oh-it's-so-hot chennai. difference number one, which no one would dare

kalpananoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1109675765737450502005-03-01T03:07:00.000-08:002005-03-01T04:34:21.563-08:00

Men often think (actually I don’t know how far that statement is true), but when they do, they often think about the perfect body. More about others’ (often womens') rather than their own. About their own bodies, they’re happy being able to just look at their toes. And if that’s not possible, all they need to do is one simple exercise. Stand in front of a full-length mirror.Well, apart from

kalpananoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1106548844700421202005-01-23T22:39:00.000-08:002005-01-23T22:40:44.700-08:00

no offense to the erudite and the knowledgable, but to some of you 'meme' may sound like a person being overemphatic abt herself. anyway, this is what it means. meme: A unit of cultural information, such as a cultural practice or idea, that is transmitted verbally or by repeated action from one mind to another. knowing me, this blog might not be too much of a marathon. but hey, even sloths are

kalpananoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1104310557305441212004-12-29T01:46:00.000-08:002004-12-29T00:55:57.306-08:00

The cause of all things creative. And destructive. The need for the idle mind to turn into a devil’s workshop. The reason for the mind to reach the idle state in the first place. The reason why the ‘idyllic state’ is a myth. The purposelessness that leads to purpose. The getaway for the contended. The escape route out of satisfaction. The reason why satisfaction is not always a positive thing.

kalpananoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1102347626948133162004-12-06T07:37:00.000-08:002004-12-06T07:40:26.946-08:00

sometimes its words that cause the stir sometimes action ruffles the fur what do you do when there is two to make tumult and daze come true a little strawberry and lotsa wine little sobriety, pain and time make way for the invisible seed to grow into an immortal weed is it change or the thought of it that recreates the tremor within it's just one of those harmless quakes that come and go

kalpananoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1101798360005042972004-11-29T23:04:00.000-08:002007-06-12T04:45:30.892-07:00

put your restless legs to restthis is the tide at its bestit comes it goes it comes it goeswhen you let it come, you must let it gothe truth will haunt and make you screambut not if you accept it's realthere are no questions left to askwhen you know, ahead, there is no taskkeep running until dead you dropbut before the shot, a moment stopto question why you're running blindand if you can leave

kalpananoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1101724559132486492004-11-29T02:34:00.000-08:002004-11-29T02:35:59.133-08:00

is this some threesome or what where the angel finds the devil too hot and god takes offense too fast on the tough member of the cast find it fast, that thing you lost somewhere in the depths of the past when the twain split for good and left a shard that stood the one with both good and evil working on every whim and will where being good is a struggle and being bad is clearly trouble angel,

kalpananoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1101552774021628722004-11-27T02:50:00.000-08:002004-11-27T03:12:34.703-08:00

Would you believe if I told you that I could fly? Would believe if I told you that I’m actually a witch in disguise? (OK, don’t answer that) What I’m trying to get at is that when we’re too grown up to believe in Santa Clause, why do we believe in other myths? Like love at first sight. Like soul mates. Like eternal bliss. Like god. Like One Love. Like platonic love. Do we really believe that

kalpananoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1101551056819162952004-11-27T02:22:00.000-08:002004-11-27T02:25:30.850-08:00

The devil looks good And hums his trance He masks his sin In bizarre romance The blow he sheaths Underneath the words Makes pain surface Though sweet, it hurts There’s more to the man Than the devil outside But is the man as good I don't want to find.

kalpananoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1099895056878639432004-11-07T22:01:00.000-08:002004-11-07T22:24:16.880-08:00

i write again. after a long hiatus. not because ravages asked me to. not because i'm supposed to be a writer. but this time to keep my sanity. let's just say that the events over the last week or so, have opened a box, much like pandora's, in my head. the problem right now is whether to face those demons and fight them out. or just put them back into the box and let them suffer a dark and

kalpananoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1096369220365249362004-09-28T03:30:00.000-07:002004-09-28T04:16:39.136-07:00

once i showed a lovely photograph of a star hotel's lobby in nuwara eliya to a friend, and all he said was 'nice legs'. it so happened that a certain pair of female legs (belonging to urs truly)were seen lazing on the beautiful couch that i wanted captured. i laughed it off as one of those flirtatious statements friends (and why, pray, r they always men?) make, when they talk. what i missed was

kalpananoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1095779799903530202004-09-21T08:08:00.000-07:002004-09-21T23:57:13.593-07:00

what do u call a bunch of drunks sitting in a boat on goa beach(bogmala to be precise)? what do u infer when they're singing loud enough for the entire marine population of goa to go deaf? what level of lunacy is it when they're singing in 2 different languages at the same time? what are they feeling when cynicism, nostalgia, attraction and irreverence are all screaming for attention at the same

kalpananoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1094036121536324072004-09-01T03:15:00.000-07:002004-09-02T00:55:43.153-07:00

i realized finally after all these yrs (no i'm not telling u how many, unless of course u choose to look up my profile), how to make ppl take notice of me. wear something outrageous. let's get to the start of the story. the garment in question is a saree and the intent, well, quite unintentional. so i had to wear this saree due to several forceful factors comprising mainly of mother-in-law.

kalpananoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1093934407397552432004-08-30T22:23:00.000-07:002004-08-30T23:40:07.396-07:00

wrote a letter last night. was forced to rather. figured out it was raksha bandhan yesterday. was slightly embarassed when my brother beat me in wishing 'Happy Rakhi'. decided that i HAD to send a rakhi even if it reached late. figured out that i couldn't email a rakhi, and hence had to put pen to paper (yeah, it IS rude to send a rakhi without a letter). believe me, it's not as difficult as u

kalpananoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1093513457894461052004-08-26T02:28:00.000-07:002004-08-26T02:44:17.893-07:00

shami scares me. he'd scare u too if he thought the exact same thoughts as u did at the exact same time. in any case, just when i was planning to write on why i don't use capital letters in my personal writing, he wants to know why. and that is a question i'm still trying to answer. maybe it's the whole concept of equality no matter whether you stand in the front, in the middle or in the end.

kalpananoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8083395.post-1093508824993106402004-08-26T01:09:00.000-07:002004-08-26T01:27:04.993-07:00

why am i blogging? (phew! questions are the easiest way to start communicating). just trying to figure out why a lazy blob like me who couldn't keep a diary for more than 2 days should start blogging. maybe it's the same reason i stopped writing letters and started mailing. just easier to be in front of the monitor (wonder why that's so easy considering it's called a 'monitor') rather than a

kalpananoreply@blogger.com1