Tamarind City


A Tamarind City by Bishwanath Ghosh

Back when I was in college, one of my favourite things about Sunday was reading the Magazine and Metro Plus supplements of the week’s The Hindu newspaper. The kind of stories published and the style of writing had a refreshing quality to them. When I read this book, I got a similar vibe and instantly loved it. You live in a city for 25-30 years and yet you’d be surprised how little you know about it. For instance, do you know the history behind the name of your street? I didn’t until recently. Likewise, I came to know many interesting stories about my city through this book.  I stumbled upon this book at a time when I felt (feel) claustrophobic in my own hometown. Well, it put a smile on my face and gave me a fresh perspective on some things.

For the past few months, I have been honing an interest in History. Especially, Indian history – pre-independence.  So, naturally, I was quite excited about the first chapter which explains the colonial roots of Chennai (or should I say Madarasapattinam?). My first surprise was Fort St George. I didn’t know it was at the core of The East India Company’s operations in India. Leased from the Vijaynagar empire in the year 1639, the fort was completed in 1640. Being at the threshold of Colonial history, the fort has had some famous residents. An 18-year-old, very depressed Robert Clive tried to kill himself in the fort quarters! The first marriage registered in the fort’s church was that of Elihu Yale! This book is full of interesting anecdotes about the city. The book quotes a Glasgow businessman’s description of 1862 George Town as follows, “… boxes of lace and artificial flowers from Pondicherry. -gold and silver ornaments; articles in coral and amber…..– From the close, crowded precincts of the Black Town it is a refreshing transition to the adjoining esplanade, whither, as in Bombay, European ladies drive every afternoon to meet their husbands and accompany them home”. Minus the European ladies, I think George Town has still retained its’ colourful chaos.

The Author touches upon various topics which reflect the core beliefs of Chennai like religion, the famous Iyer-Iyengar feuds, Cinema and the People. With a chapter dedicated to each, there is not a dull moment anywhere. I am not going to write about them all here because I think it will be best if you discover it for yourself. But I will tell you about my favourite parts. In the chapter “Sex and the City”, the author interviews a leading sexologist in Chennai and boy, do we get some laugh-out-loud moments! The fact that sex, to some extent is still a taboo topic in Chennai only adds to the hilarity. Another chapter which I totally loved was “Chandamama and Madras Miscellany”. If you were a kid who grew up in the 90s or before that, I am sure you would have at least heard of Amar Chitra Katha and Chandamama. So, in this chapter, Ghosh narrates a hide-and-seek type meeting with his childhood idol Sankar, an artist who drew for Chandamama magazine. In our digital age where we can just “google” pretty much anything, this obscure quest to meet his childhood hero was very touching to read.

So that’s that. There is so much to unravel about your own city, huh?  Ever since I read this book, I badly wanted to visit Fort St George and the Egmore Museum. I did a quick visit to the latter recently (Next post on that!). If you happen to come across any heritage walks to the Fort, please do let me know.

So, do you have a fascinating story about the place you live in? Any historical facts or anecdotes, I would love to read your story 😊

P.S: This book brought back a fascinating piece of information about my street, which had been locked in the back of my mind all these years. Ramanujam, the renowned Indian Mathematician lived a couple of houses away from mine, although briefly. For someone who dreaded Math like a dementor all her life, this is very ironical huh?

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Triffids, Thoughtcrimes and Travelling Symphony

Triffids, Thoughtcrimes and Travelling Symphony


What is more horrifying than seeing civilization crumble? Would you live in a world where books are forbidden – a punishable offense? What happens when you wake up one day and find out everyone’s gone blind? Oh, did I mention there are some man-eating plants prowling in your backyard? Can you imagine a world that is black and white? I mean literally. What is it like to see your best friend disappear one day but you have to pretend as if nothing happened because if you don’t, you might be the next? What a ray of sunshine, huh?
See, that’s why I prefer post-apocalyptic/dystopian(PAD) fiction to traditional horror novels because of how close to reality they are. Reality is terrifying than ghouls and goblins speaking in tongues. I was introduced to this genre through the granddaddy of all dystopian fiction – 1984. More on that subject in upcoming posts. I am going to give my thoughts on another book in that genre – The Day of the Triffids. *This post has some plot points. So, spoilers ahead*



When I picked up this book I knew nothing about it. It had an alluring blurb and that was it. Like most people, I thought it was going to be technical and science fiction but the book explored the emotional aspect of an apocalypse – how people come in terms with the fact that life as they know it, has ended. Initially, I struggled to understand some extreme emotions in the novel. In the first chapter where people wake up blind, we see some men committing suicide, unable to cope up with the new reality. I simply can’t imagine people giving up within a mere few hours. As the novel progresses, we see groups of survivors trying to rebuild society from whatever is left of it. One of the groups tries to establish a colony with an ideology built around polygamy. In their own words, “…In our new world babies become very much more important than husbands”. Reading it out of context, this may sound bizarre but given the circumstances, it seemed like one of the few viable options for survival. As practical as it may be, I found the main character’s immediate acceptance of such an unconventional idea very unrealistic. But then these opinions are very subjective.
As the novel progressed I noticed how different this book is from all the PAD fiction I have read so far. All other novels dealt with a world already in the post-apocalyptic era (in most of the cases a form of totalitarian government). But this is the only novel which focused on the immediate aftermath starting from day one. It was terrifying, how fast things can descend into chaos! That is one reason I really liked this book and I am sure I will revisit it another day for a reread.
On a lighter note, my friends and I used to play this little game of planning for a zombie apocalypse. We’d have animated discussions about where we would store food, whether our office glass doors were strong enough to protect us (one more problem, they were see-through) and elaborate escape routes. So macabre, yes! This book scored big time in that regard. Now I have new insight into survival techniques that I have to share with my friends.
Apart from this, these are some of my favourite PAD fiction:
Station Eleven
Handmaid’s Tale
The Giver
A Clockwork Orange.
So, do you have a favourite genre of books? Do you have favourite dystopian novel?

P.S Fun fact ! The movie 28 days later was inspired by the first scene of this book.

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Mr Farry


The singular line between his eyebrows were so deep that it seemed as if it was going to stay on his face forever. He watched her intently from behind the fence. The girl was waiting on the doorsteps looking forlorn. It was her alright. He was always good at identifying his ‘donors’. She stood up and walked towards the gate. He saw a woman with the same shade of auburn hair coming to get the little girl. Her Mother. The Man followed the pair with a safe distance between them.  He didn’t worry much about being caught. He was blessed with the most unremarkable face. Nobody ever gave so much a second glance. Least of all, the Mother. She had her eyes glued to her mobile phone.

Everything went smooth so far without any incidents. Except may be when the little girl gave him a fright in the traffic signal. She glanced at him up and down with mild curiosity until the Mother whisked her away to cross the road. All was well. He waited until nightfall to make his move. It was half past 11 when he entered the house. He shut the front door noiselessly and stepped backwards. Ouch! He knocked over a vase accidentally and it fell down with a thunderous crash in the silent house. No, he didn’t want his plans thwarted now when he’d come this far. Well, he was lucky it didn’t stir anyone awake. With all the sneakiness he could muster , he noiselessly climbed the stairs. There was a mesmerizing grace with which he moved silently, like a cat. There were three white doors on the landing. He ran his finger along the door handle with a butterfly sticker, contemplating  if it was the right one. Well, he was correct. The girl was sleeping peacefully in a room full of ‘cutesy-too-pink-to-handle’ things. He gently lifted the girl with surprising tenderness and pushed away the pillow to reveal a small tooth. Quickly, he conjured a small brass grinder from his pocket and put the tooth inside it. After a few rhythmic rotations, the tooth was ground to a fine powder. He smeared it on a mirror beside her bed and snorted the powder. The effect was immediate. He was twisting and turning with pain. His arms became rigid and from his left shoulder sprouted  a ghastly black wing, flapping endlessly. He stood up from the bed with great effort and swayed for a minute when another great black wing shot out of his right shoulder. He staggered under the weight of his newly sprouted wings and reached for the window. He struggled hard to pull open the window. There was no time. The girl was stirring in her sleep. With great effort he sprang open the window and leaped out.

The girl woke up with a start. She noticed the tooth was gone and the window was open. As she looked out the window, she saw a bat-like figure soaring through the sky. She smiled.


Based on this amazing short film by Ben Ockrent & Jake Russell, starring my favourite actor Alan Rickman. I came across an interesting writing exercise where you have to transcribe your favourite TV Show/movie. The first thing that came to my mind was this short film. A concept as simple as a tooth fairy can make for an awesome thriller is so fascinating. I mean who in the world has ever imagined Alan Rickman as a tooth fairy?




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A Day In Vellankondagaram


I checked one thing off my bucket list, this weekend. Visiting a village. As a city-bred brat, I have never set foot in an actual village. I have always envied my friends who used to go to their grandparents’ villages during summer vacations. So, a day in Vellankondagarm (aka V.K.Agaram) fulfilled that long-time wish and also gave some perspective on a lot of things.  I am going to share all about that experience and also wanted people to know about the good work of National Agro Foundation(NAF), an NGO  for rural development.

V.K.Agaram is about 60Km from Chengalpattu. It took us around 3 and a half hours to get there. Our first stop was Chunambedu. We were welcomed with some Kezhveragu Kanji(Millet porridge) and Panakam. After our healthy breakfast, we were briefed about NAF and their development initiatives through efficient water conservation techniques, agricultural tools to increase farming productivity and the like. V.K.Agaram was one village which used to get badly hit during every flood, it seems. Hence the name Vellamkondagaram (Vellam meaning Flood). My company partnered with NAF, helped in rehabilitating the village and built sustainable development ventures for the long run. We were given a tour of the different crops grown there like Beetroot , fenugreek, potato, etc., and the various farming practices adopted.

After our brief stop in Chunambedu, we reached V.K.Agaram at last. I got to meet some fascinating people there. There was this cute little girl, 6 year old Vaishani who kept us entertained with her hilariously honest observations. A huge Vijay fan, she sang some of his hits to us. Then there was Trisha, the ring leader of her little gang. I don’t think I will ever forget her face – hair braided with a tiny Kunjalam dangling precariously as she was jumping from one place to another. As we went around some parts of the village, I noticed that there were very few concrete houses. Almost all the houses in the vicinity were small huts.



We were so lucky to be invited into one of them. Rajeshwari(Right, in the picture), lives with her Mother. She was beaming with pride that out of all her siblings, only she carried on the family tradition of farming. In addition to farming, she is also quite adept at tailoring and electrical wiring. Through her we learned about the difficulties that the villagers were facing in day-to-day life. For instance, the village has no transport facilities. No government buses or railway stations. So, the children have to walk 5 Kms every day for School. 5Kms !

In the evening, we had a funfair for the villagers with games like  Bambaram, Uri Adi and Balloon fights. I think the kids enjoyed the stalls very much. When we were returning to our bus I noticed something. So many stars in the sky. When was the last time I saw  so many stars in the sky? I can’t remember. With so much light pollution in our cities, we hardly see so many stars these days. Or have we forgotten to take a moment and notice such things? Walking there in the narrow road with absolutely no street lights (not exaggerating), I couldn’t help but wonder about a lot of things. It gave some perspective on my  “ first world problems” . Lesson: May be a little less whining from now on.

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Year-End Books Roundup


2016 has been a great year for me, books-wise. Do not get me started on the things that make me want to punch 2016 in the face. *Deep breath* I could not achieve my target count (not even remotely close to it) for this year but I read some amazing books. Long long ago, I started a page called “Vandy’s Book Nook” to post book reviews but I was too lazy to do it regularly. Now the page is too cobwebby  for me to dig up. So, I am going to cram all my reviews into this post. Alrighty, let’s get to business.

Books that I read this year:

  1. Station Eleven by Emily St John Mandel
  2. Library of Souls(Final part of the Miss Peregrine Trilogy) by Ransom Riggs
  3. The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler
  4. Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
  5. Fifteen Dogs by Andre Alexis
  6. Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri
  7. Bellweather Rhapsody by Kate Racculia
  8. Trigger Warning: Short Fictions and Disturbances by Neil Gaiman
  9. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon
  10. The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
  11. Farthest Field: An Indian Story of the Second World War by Raghu Karnad
  12. The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown
  13. A Song of Ice and Fire (A Game of thrones) by George R.R Martin
  14. Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Truman Capote
  15. Harry Potter and the Cursed Child by J.K.Rowling
  16. In Cold Blood by Truman Capote
  17. The Giver by Lois Lowry
  18. The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah
  19. The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes
  20. The Lost World By Michael Crichton
  21. Truly Madly Guilty by Liane Moriarty
  22. Lily and the Octopus by Steven Rowley
  23. The Hobbit (Still reading) by J.R.R.Tolkein

The ones that I really liked:

Station Eleven: I knew nothing about this book except that it is a post-apocalyptic novel. I expected to see zombies and some action. Instead, what I read was profoundly meaningful.  This will be something I will definitely re-read time and again

Rebecca: I knew I would love this book. Period.

The Bell Jar: A semi-autobiographical novel on depression. I wanted to rip out the pages, hold it close to my heart, all at the same time. One book which deeply resonated with me since I was going through a tough phase in my life. There were times when I couldn’t go on because it was too hard. Yet, this book will stay very close to my heart.

The Giver:  What is more chilling than a horror story? Dystopian novels. My year isn’t complete without reading one. In books like 1984(which I totally love), doom is staring right in your face. But in The Giver, everything seems so rosy in the supposed-utopia until the truth slowly creeps in around the corner and horrifies you. I felt the ending was a bit abrupt but it was a wonderful journey reading this book.

The ones that disappointed:

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child: I knew it wouldn’t be the same when you are reading a script. The richness in detail which made the Harry Potter books so endearing clearly lacked in Cursed Child. Forced dialogues , hocus-pocus-unbelievable-plot-line, characters talking out-of-character and so many other reasons made it hugely disappointing for me. But 100 points to Slytherin house for having the adorable Scorpius Malfoy.

Lily and the Octopus: It was not an easy read. I couldn’t connect with the characters. But for the last part which made be bawl like a baby, this book was mostly disappointing.

The Lost Symbol and The Lost World don’t exactly belong in this category. I wasn’t really disappointed because I knew what to expect. I wanted something fast-paced like an average commercial movie

I hope to read a few more books by the end of this year and looking forward to reading books like ‘Lolita’ and ‘Tender is the Night’ next year. Do tell us how your year in books have been? Happy Reading !

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Commercial Street 101

Okay. I am just window shopping. No harm in that!

It wouldn’t hurt to put them in my wish list. (Oh no, I don’t expect any generous stranger to look at my list and actually buy it for me. *Eyeroll*. Thanks nonexistent-generous-stranger!)

I will just put them in my cart. I am not going to buy them. Just want to calculate the total.  *Looks at the cart total*. God no! I still have four weeks till month end.

*Checks for the price everyday*

It’s only 600! No way, it wouldn’t go any lower than this! I am buying it.

Voice of conscience: Have some self-restraint Pull yourself together and close the window. Besides, you can’t pull it off looking like a potato.

*3:00 AM*  Screw it, I am buying it.

Yes I love shopping.  I look forward to the weekend  for an entire week if it involves shopping.  I have had my share of insane impulse purchases at 3 AM and immediate regret the following morning. But still shopping soothes me. Having said that, I owe it to the shopaholic in me to write this blog post. I went to Bangalore’s Commercial street last week and I was like a dog without a leash. Being total noobs, my Friend and I had to rely solely on Google and a kind coffee-Anna to find our way through the streets.


This is very important. Most shops in commercial street do not accept debit/credit cards. So, for the best shopping experience, take a lot of cash.

So, how do we get there?

Take a bus to Shivaji Nagar Bus stop and from there Commercial street is a mere 10 minutes’ walk.

Load up with fuel before you shop…

There are a lot of food options in Commercial street. We were a little over excited and reached there by 8:30 AM (I know!). The shops don’t open until 11 AM. So we had a traditional South Indian breakfast at Sri Saravana Bhavan in Ibrahim Sahib Street. Food was pretty decent but the filter coffee was AMAZING. You can take little coffee-breaks between shopping. After all, if you’re going to shop for 12 hours, you need fuel. We chatted a little with the coffeewala Anna, who recommended some good shops.

You have many other eateries throughout the area – Burger King, Woody’s, Coffee day and many more. Plus, there are many lime soda carts all over the place – perfect way to rejuvenate.

Ibrahim Saheb Street

Commercial street has mostly branded shops which you can see anywhere in the city. But the best place to shop cheap is Ibrahim St. It runs parallel to Commercial street.  You have a plethora of options to choose from. Be it ethnic wear or other outfits, you get the best bargain.  A keen eye for good clothes and some haggling skills helps a lot. You can get trendy clothes for mere 100-300 Rupees. There is a shop selling Allen Solly dresses for 70% off and it is a must-visit. Ananya’s bridal wear shop has great Kurti collection and the Phulkari-type jackets are a steal. You can get pretty decent western wear in Naughtees.

Antique shops

I find curiosity shops and antique places very fascinating and this was the first time I visited one. There are half a dozen such shops in commercial street. I would recommend Asiatic Arts and Crafts in commercial street. It is a dingy shop above the Kashmiri emporium with space enough to fit only 3 people at a time. But it has one of the best collection of telescopes, record players, gramophones, victorian watches, compasses and what not. I bought a small telescope for 150 rupees(that was all I could afford due to the cash crisis in India right now!!).




Throughout Commercial street and Ibrahim St, you can find Maybelline and Lakme cosmetics for half the rate. I am not sure about the authenticity of the products though. If you want to purchase cosmetics exclusively, there is the Mahaveer and  Hi-Street mall.  They don’t exactly cheap but you have a variety of products all in one place.

Some pointers

  • Apart from clothes and accessories, you can find a lot of footwear shops near Narayan Pillai St. Literally every other shop sell shoes for bloody cheap rates.
  • If you are done with shopping and have some time to kill, visit Lal Bagh which is just a 15 minute ride away from commercial street (sans the traffic, of course).
  • The Bangalore Cantonment station is also nearby. There are autos for 50 rupees from Shivaji Nagar bus stop.
  • More than commercial street, you get the best bargains in Ibrahim Sahib.

Annnd I rest my case. Happy shopping!

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Virtue in the Quality of Insincerity

I came across a reference to Rebecca’s iconic opening lines in Stephen King’s ‘Bag of Bones’, for the first time. Later, the same lines kept popping up in many book lists. Finally, I read (binge read) Rebecca a few months ago. I am not going to squee all over the place about how much I loved this book. That’s for another day.

Long after finishing Rebecca, there was a line from the book which resonated deeply with me – virtue in insincerity. This has been a topic of constant debate between me and my friends that I thought I should write a blog about it.

“…If she doesn’t like you she’ll tell you so, to your face”

I found this hardly comforting, and wondered if there was some virtue in the quality of insincerity.

Rebecca – Daphne du Maurier

Say, your friend ordered a brand new dress on sale and is pretty psyched about it. She asks you if you like it. You don’t . Well, what do you say? In such situations, does voicing your genuine opinion really matter? The next time she wears that dress, she will definitely know that there is one person in the room who thinks it is hideous. How about just saying ‘It’s nice’. You don’t have to go out of the way to adulate them. Just a simple white lie to make them happy. If not to make them happy, at least to avoid that awkward ‘Oh’. This is a lame example, but still it relates to the big picture – treading the thin line between frank and irritatingly frank. Consider this,

Person: “Hey, please don’t mistake me but your hair totally looks like soan papadi” *chuckles*

Me: Thank you so much for enlightening me about the state of my hair, in the most appalling way possible. By any chance, did you drop your brain-to-mouth filter ?

A common excuse for such levels of ‘honesty” is that, it is better to speak your mind than talking behind someone’s back. I beg to differ. Unless your opinion is really called for or helps in genuinely improving things, there is nothing wrong in a little insincerity .Of course, this could be misunderstood as an inability to accept criticism. Again, the thin line surfaces between constructive criticism and making offensive statements. My point is, insincerity does have its virtues sometimes. I am sure many will disagree (have disagreed in the past) but given a choice, I will always choose the satisfied look on someone’s face with a mere ‘Nice’.


P.S: The Soan Papadi conversation did happen. (I know!)


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The Castle


Mama says I have a wild imagination. Is that good? Maybe. But Mama always says it with an eye roll. She thinks I will make a damn good writer someday. I doubt that because I am awful at grammar. She makes me write a page every day. Anyway, we came back from our Scotland tour yesterday. Gam and I had an amazing time. I went horse riding for the first time in my life. Mine was a boy (I think) because our instructor kept saying ‘Atta boy’. I dunno don’t know if he meant me or the horse. Gam was very nervous though. After that, we set up tents near the beach. Mrs Cromley gave us delicious sandwiches. I swear Papa ate 5 big ones himself. You know, I couldn’t sleep at all because I was so bloody excited. Waves crashing and owls hooting made the night a little spooky. I was expecting something to happen having watched enough movies to know something crazy will happen during camp nights. Too bad it didn’t. On our third day, we went on a road trip to Aunty Mon’s village. It was a mistake if you ask me. Papa didn’t know one turn from the other. Half the time we ended up getting lost. Anyway, that evening I saw the most brilliant castle I had ever seen. There were three tall towers lit beautifully with orange lights. I almost startled Mama with my gasp. It would have been great to go near and have a look if my parents hadn’t chickened out like that. Papa was like ‘That ruin? Don’t be silly. That place looks like it’s going to crumble. Not a good place for kids’. Mama was not her usual eyerolling self though. She glanced at me with a worried look. I could not understand. What ruin? That place made Buckingham palace look poor. Papa steered out of that road quick as a cat. It was a huge disappointment for me. Oh and I swear to god I saw a man(or a superlong bat) floating near one of the towers. Mama would never believe me. She never believes me. Ok, they are calling me to bed. Pip pip !

Eddy. O


In case you didn’t know, Hogwarts looks like an old ruin to muggle’s eyes.  (Only muggle’s eyes )*Winks*

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Remembering Alan Rickman


I was in train to Chennai when I heard the news of Alan Rickman’s death and prayed so hard that it be a hoax. I cried silently in the almost empty compartment. The tears didn’t just mean the death of my favourite actor. Alan Rickman, in many ways, symbolized the best part of my childhood.

I started this blog six years ago because of a book which totally changed my life. Until then, I was a mediocre teenager with very average English skills and almost zero self-confidence. All that changed after I discovered Harry Potter, when I was fourteen. It introduced me into this magnificent world of books and since then it has been my best teacher. Today, I want to write about the man who was a significant part of that glorious childhood. To the best Snape we’ve ever had:

Severus Snape being my first favourite literary character, I was waiting keenly for his introduction scene in the movie. There he was, swooping into the classroom with his black cloak billowing majestically. He kept us all bewitched with those words ‘There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class’. Oh, he was every inch the Snape that I had in mind. The baritone voice and that unique diction inspired me so much that I put in extra effort in my next English exam. My English Ma’am called me alone to the staff room and asked me if I really wrote the essay answer myself. I couldn’t help but smile at my inside joke. I remember the times when I spammed the entire D drive with Rickman wallpapers; enacting Snape scenes with my sister, complete with Alan’s tiny nod-like jerk (a mannerism we noticed in many of his movies); rewinding snape scenes and watching it repeatedly until the dialogues were by-heart; vowing to design my first website as a fanpage for Alan Rickman.

He was no less charming in his other movies. That disappointed look on Col.Brandon’s face when he sees Marianne with another guy (I kept thinking she was such a fool to ignore him). He made us root for the villains too. Who can ever forget his stylish Hans Gruber? I sure wished it was John Mcclane who fell off the thirty second floor. Even though Harry (Love Actually) was a jerk, Alan Rickman was too adorable to hate. Frankly, I can only remember more of the Sheriff than Robin Hood. The list is endless. Rickman was ridiculously charming in all the roles he played.

When I read Station Eleven recently, there was one thing that I didn’t quite understand. The death of a character’s favourite actor deeply affects him. I wondered how a person can be so sad about someone whom they have never met. Now I do. There are thousands of potterheads all over the world now, mourning the loss of their favourite Slytherin. Each of us remembers him for our own special reasons. To me he was my first hero, first crush and Severus Snape. I can’t imagine the grief for those people who’ve actually met him. If only he’d pull a miracle like Jamie. We truly, madly, deeply miss you, Alan.


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Autumn Leaves

He was dressed in his finest. The dark brown hair neatly parted to the side. One look at him and you can easily deduce that he is very meticulous with his appearance. He held the drink gracefully in his hand, smiling towards the band. The lines on his face suggested he was in his early forties. But the crow’s feet as he smiled sort of framed those glimmering eyes in a beautiful way. This was his night. He earned it. The food, jazz and the aura of this place. No one would ever guess the truth about him. That it was his only suit. That life meant two grueling shifts to make ends meet. He was supposed to do great things in life. Alas, somewhere life took a wrong turn and he ended up where he was. But he spent one night every month like the person he was supposed to be. The band was finishing the song.



“And soon I’ll heard old winter’s song..”


Recently, I was listening to Stan Getz version of Autumn Leaves and instantly I imagined this lonely man sitting in restaurant . Someone who did and didn’t belong there. Then, a few more details about his life took shape. It was not a solid story but I just wrote down whatever came to my mind when I listened to that song. So has this happened to you? A vivid character coming to life from a song? If so, do write about it 🙂

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