A very personal account of a few hours spent at my hometown, reliving some childhood experiences and savoring the gentle pace of life.
[slickr-flickr tag=”Tanjong Pagar”]
Recently, I’ve been to a couple of meditation sessions. Nothing very fancy – just a couple of guided group meditation exercises at work. One of the things that struck me, quite hard, I must say, is how different it is to experience something from just reading or hearing about it. This must be quite obvious to most people – strangely enough, it came as an epiphany to me.
Some time ago, I was in Singapore on work – it was quite a
I cycled the eight kilometers from work to home, and cycled back to work the next morning. This was part of ‘Bike to work Day’ at work. This got me thinking about my bicycle-borne adventures, bringing back a flood of memories.
When we were kids, we did not have bicycles – we had to hire them for a rupee an hour. These were small, kid-sized bicycles, and my brother and I used to look forward to the weekends when we were given money to hire them – we did not have allowances, and it depended totally on if we had been well-behaved the previous week. Of course, thinking back on it now, it also got us out of the house and out of our parents’ hair for a few hours.
We just returned from a short trip to Egypt – a week in a wonderful land, discovering its ancient and modern faces, an experience of a lifetime. A single account can hardly justify the trip – so here we present a few impressions.
A long-time plan to visit Barkas was realized today. Khadeer was my guide for the day, and his brother Nazir accompanied us.
We met up early in the morning and drove to Barkas. First, some background. Barkas is part of the history of Hyderabad. The Arab soldiers who were part of the Nizam’s army lived in barracks, and their descendents continue to do so – except that the area where they live has come to be known as Barkas – a corruption of the word ‘barracks.’ Today, Barkas is an integral part of Hyderabad. Yet, it retains a stamp of Arabic influence that is distinct.
In the beginning of September 2010, Vidya and I took a jungle holiday in Uttara Kannada. The one thing that stood out in this trip was how we kept seeing Hornbills, and how sighting them shaped our holiday. This is the story of that holiday. Written with creative inputs from Vidya Sigamany.
In the beginning of September 2010, Vidya and I took a jungle holiday in Uttara Kannada. The one thing that stood out in this trip was how we kept seeing Hornbills, and how sighting them shaped our holiday. This is the story of that holiday.
We had corn on the cob today, even though it was not raining! For some strange reason, corn on the cob and rains seem to belong together.
When we were growing up, homemade corn was always boiled, either in a pressure cooker or in a closed vessel, and seasoned with salt. This was seasonal, and was available only once or twice a year. When it was the corn season, it was always quite a family affair – cleaning the corn and preparing it to be boiled, waiting around the dining table for it to
A few weeks ago, I was stocking up on victuals at our local green grocer’s, which goes by the grandiose name of Veerabhadra Vegetables. Veerabhadra Vegetables is by no means a mean place – on the main road from Kothaguda to Miyapur, its location opposite Shilpa Park gives it a strategic advantage that the grocer has turned into an excuse for the most alarming (to outsiders) Nawabi attitude. It is also this that endears him to all his customers, me included. Wasn’t this the guy
Every Sunday, volunteers from the local Roots and Shoots chapter visit the Nehru Zoological Park and station themselves near the cages. They talk to visitors, keeping them from feeding or troubling the animals. Since the park receives (roughly) ten times the number of visitors on Sundays as all the rest of the days put together, this action is very impactful.
Today, as part of an initiative at work, a few colleagues and I joined the R&S volunteers for a day at the zoo.
But before we kick off