A day that has stayed with me

(This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2025, wherein 10 posts are published in 15 days. This is the sixth one. The prompt: If you could relive one ordinary day just to feel it again, which would it be?)

It was 35 years ago. I was just about two years into my career, working as a sub-editor at Free Press in Indore, Madhya Pradesh.

One of the big stories making headlines at the time was the agitation led by the Narmada Bachao Andolan (NBA), or Save Narmada Movement. Launched in 1985 under the leadership of Medha Patkar, it opposed the construction of large dams on the Narmada River, primarily due to the displacement of thousands of rural families, especially farmers.

Baba Amte. (Britannica)

Baba Amte, well-known for his humanitarian work among leprosy patients at Anandwan in Maharashtra’s Chandrapur district, had lent his moral support to the NBA.

Despite suffering from a spinal ailment that confined him to a cot or wheelchair, Baba Amte decided that year, in 1990, to move to Chhoti Kasrawad village on the banks of the Narmada River in Khargone district, Madhya Pradesh. He just wanted to be among the people whose land would be submerged.

The camps, huts, houses, and ashrams all along the riverbanks would later become not just hubs for activists to discuss, plan, and share ideas, but also centres for education, community organisation, and coordination of the movement’s activities.

A SNAP DECISION

When I heard about Baba Amte’s plan to relocate, I felt it was a compelling story for our newspaper, given it is published from Madhya Pradesh. I asked my editor, Mr Shravan Garg, if I could travel to the village and cover it. He readily agreed.

The next day was my weekly off, and I made an abrupt decision to head there immediately. Why I chose to go on my weekly off day was because getting leave, even for official work, at short notice was (and still is) quite a challenge.

EARLY MORNING DEPARTURE

The village was about three hours away by bus. I was thrilled. There’s nothing quite like being at the scene of action. It was also my first outstation reporting assignment.

Since the round trip would take about six hours, and I expected to spend three or four hours there, I boarded an early bus from Indore station around 8 am, hoping to return by evening, or worst case, by night.

When I reached Barwani, the nearest town, I heard about a road-blockade in solidarity with Medha Patkar who was on a hunger strike in Bombay (now Mumbai). 

Getting to Baba Amte's hut from Barwani meant traversing seven kilometres of rough, untarred track. I reached the place riding pillion on a farmer’s bicycle. He offered to drop me since he was headed in that direction. All through the ride, he spoke passionately about the project and how it would adversely affect farmers.

HURDLES GALORE

My objective was to meet Baba Amte and speak with him. Since this was a completely unplanned, a spur-of-the-moment trip, his assistants were surprised when I showed up and requested an interview slot.

And the fact that I was a young, rookie reporter didn’t help at all. Though I had been very closely following the anti-dam agitation, I had never covered any event related to the protests. Nor did I know anyone closely in the organisation. My hopes began to ebb, as I got responses like "Baba Amte is busy", "he is resting", "you will have to wait", etc. 

Though I could still write a story based on conversations with people and describe the ambience of the village that would soon become the movement’s epicentre, I wondered what was the point of returning to Indore without speaking to Baba Amte. The story after all was about him moving into the village.

BREAKTHROUGH, FINALLY

By the time Baba Amte was back at the hut after spending some time with the protesters who had organised the traffic blockade, it was around 5 pm. It was getting late, and I began wondering what my cut-off time should be. 

Then, suddenly, an aide of Baba Amte approached me and asked, “Are you from Free Press?” I said, yes. He looked and sounded genuinely helpful. He said he’d try to facilitate the interview, but I’d have to wait: not before 6 pm.

I said that was fine. But he warned me that after 6, it would be difficult to get to the nearest town, from where I’d need to catch a bus back to Indore. Then, to my pleasant surprise, he kindly offered me accommodation at the camp for the night. I couldn’t believe it.

Around 7 pm or so, I finally got to meet Baba Amte. The interview went off well. He spoke at length why the project was being opposed. He said he wasn't opposed to development but big dams that displace thousands of people are not the only solution to people's livelihood problems. He said that there are several alternatives like smaller dams, better water management, etc. 

A MEMORABLE SOJOURN

I spent the night there. That day remains etched in my memory. A day surely I'd love to relive.

A remote village on the banks of the Narmada. A cool, starry night. Peace and quiet all around. The kind of ambience one only dreams of.

I woke up the next morning feeling unlike ever before — so happy, with a deep sense of accomplishment. It’s not often that everything falls into place. And all in a single day!

I took the first bus from the nearby town and reached home just before noon. Later that day, at the office, I met the editor and shared my experience.

I filed the story. It was carried on the front page. My joy knew no bounds.

WHY IT WAS MORE SPECIAL

The entire experience at that camp in Chhoti Kasrawad village was memorable not just because I could interview a legendary humanitarian like Baba Amte or because of the great ambience of the place.

It was also my 25th birthday.

A birthday like never before; and never after.

Finding calm amidst daily chaos

(This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2025, wherein 10 posts are published in 15 days. This is the fifth one. The prompt: Look out of the window. What's the first thing that fascinates you and why?)

In this world, where the unpleasant and the stressful seemingly dominate, the daily grind can be gruelling. Life in an apartment complex, especially in a city, can be overwhelming, with the predictable sounds of routine echoing all around. But there are plenty of gentle wonders simply hidden in plain sight.

A WINDOW TO EVERYDAY WONDER

I realise this almost always when I look out of the window of my apartment. What catches my sight immediately are the trees that line the courtyard in front of the building. They are there standing tall and still; the perfect brakes, as it were, to a life racing all around us at break-neck speed.

The line of greenery seems a fitting contrast to the grey of the concrete. Green is more than a colour; it’s a sign of life. There’s often a gentle, cool breeze nowadays, and each time I look out, I can see the branches and leaves come alive as they sway in the energising wind. Are they dancing to the hum of the wind, I wonder!

THE RAINY REVIVAL

The rainy season now has only made them more vibrant and striking. As the clouds open up, the trees allow themselves to be draped in water. Pause to observe closely, and you’ll see droplets sliding delicately over the leaves, lingering momentarily at the tips before falling to the ground below. That’s a sight to behold, reminding us to slow down. That’s where the beauty of life lies.

Each shower gives them a new glow. The dust that had settled from the nearby road has been washed away. It seems the leaves have received a fresh lease of life.

SOOTHING PANACEA

We are talking of something as simple as a few trees. Just look out of the window and there is an everyday fascination that is endlessly captivating. It’s a perfect panacea, whether the brain is racing or the mind is feeling low. For me, it is a sight that is both soothing and invigorating, right outside the window.

A TIMELESS LESSON

As I see these trees, what comes to my mind is: "Nature does not hurry, but everything is accomplished", a saying often attributed to the Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu. 

It only means that we can achieve whatever we want by being patient and going with the natural flow. Just as rains come, rivers flow, flowers bloom, trees grow, and seasons change even though nature never hurries.

It’s a philosophy I believe in, and practise as well.

Get new posts by email

Powered by

From memoir to mystery: My latest four reads

(This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2025, wherein 10 posts are published in 15 days. This is the fourth one. The prompt: The last four books you read.)

If there’s one thing I treasure, it’s discovering new worlds and perspectives through books. My reading habit had taken a serious hit while I was working. Now that I have more time for myself, I have got back into the habit.

Here are the four books I read last, listed in the reverse chronological order, meaning the most recent first.

1. MEN WITHOUT WOMEN

Haruki Murakami is one of the most popular Japanese authors; perhaps more celebrated outside Japan than within. The last book I read by him was the anthology Birthday Stories, several years ago.

Last month, while on a short visit to Kerala, I entered Aluva metro station to take a train to Kadvanthra. There, I was surprised to find a book exhibition-cum-sale. I spent about 45 minutes browsing the books on display, eventually picking up two. 

One was Murakami's Men Without Women. The other was The Accidental Prime Minister: The Making and Unmaking of Manmohan Singh by Sanjaya Baru, which I have yet to start reading.

Men Without Women is a collection of seven short stories, all revolving around the complex emotional lives of men separated from women.

Each story features a different protagonist grappling with loneliness, longing, and the mysterious presence, or absence, of women in his life. The tales explore a range of situations: lost love, betrayal, quiet marriages, and more.

One of the stories is “Drive My Car”, where an actor forms a bond with his female chauffeur as he struggles with memories of his late wife’s infidelity.

Murakami’s characteristic style of quiet melancholy and introspection runs through all the stories.

2. THE GIRL ON THE TRAIN

There were two reasons I bought this book. First, it simply appeared on Amazon while I was browsing the book section; second, and more importantly, both the title and the blurb caught my attention.

This novel by Paula Hawkins is a psychological thriller set in London, centred on the lives of three women: Rachel, Megan, and Anna.

Rachel Watson takes the same commuter train every day, passing by her old neighbourhood. She becomes fixated on watching a seemingly perfect couple, Megan and Scott, who live near her ex-husband Tom and his new wife Anna.

When Megan goes missing, Rachel finds herself drawn into the investigation, spurred by hazy memories and her urge to help. As Rachel probes deeper, her unreliable recollections and desire to be useful push her into dangerous territory.

The novel’s suspenseful plot kept me guessing about what happened to Megan.

3. HOW PRIME MINISTERS DECIDE

Neerja Chowdhury is a reputed journalist who has spent decades in New Delhi as a political reporter. When I was with The Indian Express in their Ahmedabad edition, during the politically tumultuous early 1990s, I had the good fortune to edit many of her stories.

She is one of the few top journalists in India who has witnessed at close quarters the changing political landscape in the nation’s capital. She has met all the prime ministers except Jawaharlal Nehru, Lal Bahadur Shastri, and Gulzarilal Nanda.

That’s one reason I picked up this book, which examines the decision-making styles of six Indian prime ministers: Indira Gandhi, Rajiv Gandhi, V. P. Singh, Narasimha Rao, Atal Bihari Vajpayee, and Manmohan Singh. 

She sheds light on the intense pressures prime ministers face from several quarters: not just public expectations, but also from diverse groups, communities, and even their closest advisers.

What makes this book particularly interesting is the detail she provides regarding some of the controversial political decisions our prime ministers have made.

Anyone interested in Indian politics will surely enjoy reading this book.

4. RECKONING

A couple of years ago, while my son was preparing for his journey home from Sydney, he asked me what I would like him to bring for me. I told him to get me a book about Australia that I might not easily find in India.

He got me two. One was Reckoning: The Forgotten Children and Their Quest for Justice by David Hill. The other was Born Into This by Adam Thomson.

I will take the first one.

Reckoning tells the powerful true story of how David Hill and other former “Forgotten Children” from the Fairbridge Farm School in New South Wales sought justice for the abuse they suffered as children.

Hill recounts the shocking institutional abuse endured by vulnerable British and Australian children, who were sent to Fairbridge under imperial schemes, and then mistreated; sometimes as young as five years old.

Their battle led to a record $24 million compensation awarded by the New South Wales Supreme Court. Hill describes many personal stories, and with the appropriate historical context, sketches so well not only the resilience of the survivors but also their struggle to hold those responsible accountable.

WHAT ABOUT YOU?

Each of these books, on diverse themes, left its own mark, sparking thought and, sometimes, even stirring up memories. Have you read any of them? If not, which one of these you would like to read?

Get new posts by email

Powered by

My pocket notebook and pen

(This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2025, wherein 10 posts are published in 15 days. This is the third one. The prompt: Pick one object in your room, write about its story and why it matters to you.)

One of the small things I never forget when I step out is my pocket notebook (or scribble pad) and a pen. It’s a leftover habit from the pre-mobile phone days.

The notepad is so handy when you need to jot something down quickly: a name, a phone number, an address, or a shopping list. I often note down expenses, small calculations, or even a random thought that pops into my head. Of course, calculators existed even back then, but no one carried one around always.

People without a notepad usually scramble for loose paper: a receipt, a torn newspaper corner, an envelope, or even a bus ticket. I’ve never liked that. It always felt good to have something with myself to write on.

And then, the pen. You never know when you might need one. I’ve seen many people, especially in post offices, asking strangers for pens. I’ve lent mine several times and lost a few that way. 

So now, when I give someone my pen, I keep the cap with me: a small trick that reminds both of us. This is only if it's a pen with a cap, or I end up keeping my fingers crossed. 

My notepads have become small diaries over time. I usually note the date whenever I write. I still have a few old ones at home; pages crumpled, some almost coming apart. I never felt like throwing them away. Once in a while, I flip through them, and it feels like traveling back in time. It’s amazing how a few words or numbers can hold so many memories.

These days, Google Keep is my digital equivalent. Anything longer or detailed goes there. But quick lists, or random jottings, or short reminders still find their way into the tiny notepad.

I know the modern trend is not to jot down anything, but to click a photo with the mobile phone camera.

All said and done, writing by hand gives me a quiet sense of having done something. It’s one small way of staying away from screens. Maybe that’s what makes this old habit worth keeping; a gentle pause in a digital world.​

Get new posts by email

Powered by

Colonial Cousins: The trendsetter of 1990s

(This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2025, wherein 10 posts are published in 15 days. This is the second one. Prompt: Your favourite musical band of the 90s)

When I think about the music of the 1990s, so many bands, singers, and songs come to my mind: both Indian and international. Among the international ones, I remember Backstreet Boys, Linkin Park, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Nirvana, and U2. Closer to home, groups like Indian Ocean, Euphoria, and Parikrama.

Hariharan and Leslee

But the band that truly captivated me was Colonial Cousins. I first heard about them from a friend who was always tuned into the latest trends. His enthusiasm was infectious, and before long, I found myself buying their audio cassette, eager to know what the excitement was all about.

REVOLUTIONARY FUSION

Their debut album, released in October 1996, became a sensation. What set Colonial Cousins apart was their bold fusion. They mixed multiple languages (English, Hindi, and even South Indian) with elements of Hindustani and Carnatic classical music, all wrapped in Western pop, rock, and electronic styles.

With Hariharan’s soulful vocals and Leslee Lewis’s masterful genre-mixing, each track often began with traditional ragas and transitioned into pop choruses. Songs such as “Sa Ni Dha Pa” and “Krishna” come to mind.

While Bollywood did occasionally do something innovative, Colonial Cousins was among the first to explore the synergy outside the realm of Hindi cinema. Their songs also perfectly blended with the spirit of a newly liberalised India in the 1990s, when the country was opening up to foreign companies, goods, movies, music, and much more.

THEIR NAME AND ORIGINS

The story of their name is as unique as their music. Hariharan once recalled that during a visit to London, a friend remarked how Londoners and the Indians there could be called “Colonial Cousins,” a reference to the shared colonial history. Hariharan suggested the name to Leslee Lewis, who immediately agreed.

The two met while working on prime-time advertising jingles. Leslee composed the tunes, and Hariharan lent his vocals. During one of their sessions, as they waited for a script, they began an impromptu jam. The magic was good, as indicated by the applause of everyone there. At that moment, they realised they were destined to work together as a band.

Their international impact also became apparent. Hariharan remembers the time at Heathrow airport when a gentleman approached and praised their music.

After two more albums following their debut, the duo took a prolonged break, each pursuing solo careers. They later reunited as digital and TV shows took off giving ample time and space to independent and fusion music again.

TIMELESSNESS VS TODAY'S FUSION

Today's fusion tracks are often tech-heavy, and I feel it's a lot of noise. In contrast, Colonial Cousins has a lot of originality and authenticity. Their songs are truly timeless, not just because of their innovative approach, but also because they dared to tred a new path.

Get new posts by email

Powered by

Judging character by daily habits can be misleading

(This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2025, wherein 10 posts are published in 15 days. This is the first one.)

When I first saw the prompt for this blog post — habits that reflect your personality without you in the picture — I was reminded of what my teachers and elders used to drill into us as children: “Your everyday habits say a lot about who you are. So, make sure you inculcate the habits that show your best side!”

Source: Gemini

You can spot these signs almost everywhere:

• A desk that’s neat as a pin (versus one with papers and books scattered all over).
  
  
• Clothes neatly folded and arranged in the wardrobe (as opposed to some of them lying on a chair, and the rest on one side of the bed).
  
  
• Shoes shining so much you can see your reflection in them (contrasted with shoes bearing muddy stains, lying scattered at the door).

Most of us were told to aim for the first set of habits — the “correct” ones. Those in brackets were to be avoided.

I think that's a bit old-fashioned. Life today is far less about what’s deemed “desirable” and more about what works for each of us, is it not?

A FEW EXAMPLES

Take, for example, the so-called “messy desk”.

Certainly, it might look chaotic and scream “disorganised!” But try asking the owner where a particular book is, and they’ll produce it quicker than you’d expect!

Clutter could well be a sign of creativity, don’t you think? It might show that the person doesn’t like fences, someone who wishes to go that extra length and explore new ideas.

Another example: a person who never cooks their own meals. It’s easy to assume they lack cooking skills. Yet what if they are actually a good cook, but simply do not have the time, and choose convenience over displaying their culinary abilities?

Yet another example: those happy selfies on social media. They give the impression someone is living their best life, always on cloud nine. But the truth could be far removed from that. All those smiles may be just for the camera; a way to escape the day-to-day blues.

THE OBVIOUS ISN'T ALWAYS THE TRUTH

Yes, our daily habits do tell the obvious story. But remember, this is a world where conventions are constantly being challenged; the obvious isn’t always the truth.

So, it’s good to remember that things are not always what they seem on the surface. Sometimes, what feels like a simple clue about someone can turn out to be entirely misleading!

Don't get me wrong; I’m not saying one should be disorganised or choose clutter over order.

Simply, don’t judge too fast!

(The 2nd post will be published on the 27th, Monday.) 

Get new posts by email

Powered by

Seasons in my life

Back in school in Kerala, the teacher taught us the four seasons.

I understood summer and winter, but not spring and autumn. And I didn’t know which one of them came after summer and winter! (Also, I could never get the spelling of autumn right!)

In my home state, we had only three seasons — summer and two monsoons (southwest and northeast). The month of December was neither hot nor rainy, just cold early in the morning!

Tabebuia rosea in Bengaluru.
Photo: K. Murali Kumar/The Hindu

LANGUAGE OF SEASONS

Much later, after my school years, when I developed a love for the English language (and a bit of literature as well), I came across Shelley’s famous poem Ode to the West Wind, the last line of which is the oft-quoted, “If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?”

The English professor’s explanation of the profound meaning of the poem, and more specifically of the last line, not only painted the world in front of me in brighter colours but also settled for good the confusion I had regarding the order of the seasons.

After spending the first 23 years of my life in Kerala, when I went to North India, I learnt what real winter was. I bought my first blanket in Bhopal in 1988 from a Khadi Bhandar for ₹100. He had asked for ₹120, but agreed to give it for ₹100. I still have it, and I still use it. It’s so thick, good, and warm. 

(Khadi Bhandar is a store where hand-spun and hand-woven cloth and cloth products are sold.)

CULTURE AND COLOUR

Seasons have shaped our local culture. Many of our festivals are so intricately tied to seasons. For example, Holi and Vasanth Panchami mark the end of winter and herald the arrival of spring; a time to look ahead to a bright and colourful future.

The best time of the year, as far as the natural beauty of Bengaluru is concerned, is January to March. The famous Tabebuia rosea (Pink Trumpet Trees) and similar species spring into bloom, bathing streets, parks, and neighbourhoods in colours of pink, white, and yellow.

Though in the north, that’s also the time when sweaters and other warm clothes are stacked away and forgotten for the next six months, that’s not exactly the case here in Bengaluru, which has been my place of residence for the past 26 years. The temperature here is almost always pleasant (in comparison to many other cities) but cool wind and rain bring the temperature down so much that we need warm clothes.

SUMMER OR WINTER?

Winter, which comes at the end of a year, is often characterised as a metaphor for everything that is gloomy. There is very little daylight time, with the sun hardly seen.

This post is part of Blogchatter Blog Hop

But I can manage the cold better than heat; and I prefer winter to summer. This is, of course, in the context of India. I don’t know whether my preference would be the same if I were in Europe or Australia, Canada or the US. At least in the places that I have lived, summer has always been more intense and difficult to manage than winter.

The cold season does have several bright spots. The comfort of curling up under the blanket is unrivalled. Any food is too tempting to ignore. The streaming rays of sunshine are a virtual invitation to the outdoors.

SONGS OF THE SEASONS

When you think of seasons, invariably many songs come to mind. There are plenty of them in English, Hindi, and in my native language of Malayalam that celebrate seasons. It’s difficult to choose the best one.

I will go for Thandi Hawayein Lehrake Aaye from the 1951 film Naujawan sung by Lata Mangeshkar.

It is all about cool breeze, moonlight and stars; and youthful longing and laughter. Lyrics are by Sahir Ludhianvi and music by S.D. Burman. It's considered one of the earliest productions of the duo and Sahir's breakthrough into mainstream cinema.

Here it is:

Get new posts by email

Powered by

A coffee spill that nearly ruined an interview

It was one of those interviews in Delhi after my college days for which I had gone all the way from Thiruvananthapuram. It was for the Junior Research Fellowship (JRF) granted by the University Grants Commission, a prestigious scholarship that opens doors to research careers. That year, 1987, was the first year when JRF was being offered for research in journalism too. Until then, it was only for mass communication.

On the important day, just as anyone would do, I spent quite some time deciding on the outfit for the interview. Finally, I chose a formal shirt and trousers and set out. On the way to the venue, I met a friend; he was a friend of my host in Delhi. He was on his two-wheeler.

Through his friend, he had learned that I was in town for an interview. But we didn't expect to run into each other. He asked me where I was headed. I told him. It turned out that he too was going in the same direction. When I told him about the timing of the interview, he came up with the idea of having some tea or coffee on the way.

I said it was fine. That would allow us time to talk and catch up. And it would sort of take my focus away from the interview too. We settled down at a corner table.

TEA OR COFFEE

Then came the usual question: tea or coffee? I thought for a moment. Coffee isn't quite as popular in the north. Usually, it's only instant coffee (Nescafe or Bru) that's available and that tastes the same anywhere in India.

But the flavour of tea in north India is quite different from what we get in south India. So, I chose tea. But my friend talked me out of that idea, saying that the tea in that particular place wasn't good at all, and that they had multiple varieties of coffee.

I was surprised that they had (my favourite) 'filter coffee' too, though it wasn't specifically a south Indian restaurant. Sipping our drinks, we chatted away.

THE CRISIS

While talking, something distracted me, and I spilled some coffee on my shirt. More than the shirt, my thoughts immediately turned to how I would now go for the interview!

We quickly thought about what could be done. There was just about an hour for me to present myself for the interview. Either buy a new shirt, go home and change, or borrow a shirt from my friend.

We abruptly ended our restaurant rendezvous and quickly looked around to see if there was a store where I could buy a new shirt. No, none. Instead of wasting more time, I went to my friend's place, which was closer to that spot than where I was staying. Luckily, there was one shirt that fitted and suited me. I quickly changed and went for the interview.

THE OUTCOME

What happened to the interview? I qualified for JRF. But it's a different matter that I picked my first job (in Bhopal in 1987) when that came my way rather than go for research, which remains an incomplete entry in my educational qualifications on my résumé! I know it's never too late to start anything. But I don't have the energy for something which I should have done nearly 40 years ago!

COFFEE PREFERENCES 

Mostly, I prefer coffee to tea. That's because the taste of tea varies widely, unlike that of coffee. So, when I'm not sure and I don't want to take the risk, I choose coffee. The taste of filter coffee gives me a unique sort of contentment.

I don't like strong coffee. It tastes bitter for me. I prefer it slightly light. That has prompted some of my friends to comment: "If you drink coffee, you should drink it strong. What you drink is not coffee!" 

This post is a part of the Blogchatter
Blogchatter Blog Hop

My usual choice is "filter coffee" (also called drip coffee or brewed coffee) if that's available. Otherwise, instant coffee. Or, the one that is made by adding coffee power to boiling water and milk.

I'm not a regular visitor to upmarket, specialty coffee shops like Starbucks, Third Wave, Barista or Café Coffee Day. I'm very happy with the local eateries that are commonly called "Darshinis" or "Udupi restaurants" in Bengaluru.

I'm not a compulsive coffee drinker either. I have a cup early in the morning, just before going out for my walk, then after breakfast, and then in the evening before I go for my walk. Very rarely, if I feel like it, I have one sometime in between. I'm not in the habit of having a cuppa whilst working, nor is it my go-to when I'm stressed.

Even though I don’t down cups and cups of coffee a day, the few that I have bring in a sense of comfort and familiarity. They help me settle into the day’s routine, and keep me going.