My Space

"I've heard they will close the transport systems soon. Its been raining continuously since six hours." "Omigosh! I don't want to be stuck here all night. My place is far you know.' "Let's hope for the best. And don't worry, I live closeby. I would be honored to host you." "Areee no! I don't want to trouble you unnecessarily. And I'm not made of sugar that I will melt. In 2005 I slept in the Chemistry lab the entire night. Remember that cloudburst and torrential rainfall. So many stories of heroism that were born that day. " "Absolutely, and some were totally unbelievable acts of valour. A few stories come to my mind too." "Chalo! Let's compare notes over a piping cuppa. You want to go first?" "Yes. My colleague Sanika, she spent the entire night in a best bus. The bus would not budge and in in the waters. If the levels rose any further she would drenched till further help arrived.

He talked, talked and talked like he had verbal diarrhea. He needed to splutter out the last word he knew about whatever he was talking about. An then this infamous B-word would splutter out of his mouth if he felt very strongly that things were amiss. It would slip through his tongue in the most innocuous fashion, while the rest of us looked on quite wide-eyed. The B-word was like his trailing spouse. She followed wherever he went. Retired seniors read newspapers like the world depended on their being better informed. Politics and current affairs are key topics of their discussion. Being neighbours, our parents made socials calls to each other quite frequently. During one such visit the argument over a politician's vested interest got heated up. He felt very strongly for the politician in question as did my parents feel against him. When the kitchen heat brewed too strong, out came his trailing spouse. Paralysed in shock, my parents stared long and hard in disbelief. Mum even

“It’s loud enough to wake up the entire neighbourhood,” remarked a rather bleary eyed Ansh, “and you tell me I don’t even realise. Aai someone will report us to the cops for sure”. “ Gappa bas, veda ” (Shut up, silly boy!), I retorted, chiding him to not make a fuss over such a small thing. He just happened to be awake for cramming a stockpile of books for his exam. Had it been a regular day, he would have been too unconscious to realise the existence of Parvati mausi’s  divine alarm. Each night  mausi  slept her forty winks akin to a NASA research scientist on the way toward a path-breaking discovery. As was her routine since years, she woke up at the dot of 4 AM. She'd begin her day with a bath and move to the puja room to pay obeisance to a line-up of deities. I am seldom awake at such an unearthly hour. Nonetheless, I have been an occasional witness to this morning ritual. “Asha? Tumhi Prasad ghetla kaa?” (Asha, did you partake of the blessings) Even before