this is my island in the sand

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sMALL tOWNESS oF bEING

Six years in Delhi introduced me to three types of people; Big towners and small towners. And Prashant introduced me to the really small towners. Go***d is a big towner. I am a small towner and Prashant, in his own words is a really small towner. So that should be Delhi, Lucknow and Faisabad . This distinction is not really as bad as the caste system, but almost nearly. While the big towner is curious, whether Lucknow has internet, the small towner and poor cousin, the even smaller Towner, are wondering, “how’d we make it to your terrain?” But the big towner insists and “I say, of course!” “Do you have Mac Donald’s?” “No.” “You have Cable TV.” “Listen, I don’t know what impression you have of small towns, but I think you should really go and have a look yourself.” “So if everything is so cool there, why do you have to come to Delhi?” No answer to that. One year in the film industry has taught me the “other kind of small towness.” This one is a residue of the “struggler, Andheri-surburb...
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No County for Special People

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Let me admit, I have written and deleted similar posts many times in the past. It's about the truth we mask with love to protect our brother.  Last night when my elder brother Arshad was reversing his car to drop me to my place, he pointed out a group of young boys sitting under his apartment window. He said that when he was placing the new curtains, he saw these boys along with a couple of girls, (who live in the same building) point up at him. They were discussing if he was the "mad guy" or not. They were talking about June. It didn't bother them, that Chiggu bhai (Arshad) was looking at them or could hear them.  Neither my brother nor I were shocked by this incident.  Every time, people behave like this, regarding June Bhai, it just leaves us stoic. The coldness with which people say such things, transcends to us as coldly as it were meant. Mostly. But sometimes we break.  Why are people so scared of what they don’t understand? My brother’...
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"He Called me Mumma!"

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"He's going to start talking at 40," that is what my Naana used to say about June. I had never met Naana, but Mummy has told me this story many times.  Since last year Juney has been unwell. It’s been one illness after the other. Including an increase in tremors, which scared all of us and brought back memories we never wanted to visit again. He's better now, though his balance is seriously affected. Post illness, June has emerged more intelligent and emotionally very sensitive. He tries to shape words in his mouth but his tongue fails him. Sometimes he tries really hard and some long sentences of jumbled words flow. It’s gibberish. But then we’ve never desired words with June. His eyes have always done the talking.  Bhai is extremely dependent on Mummy now. She is the constant in his life. Recently, I was helping her re-arrange her cupboard, her saris were strewn all over the bed. I noticed that Juney was looking concerned; he would look ...
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