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Dilli Diary

"For all its faults we love this city." - The city of Djinns The thought of spending a couple weeks in Delhi in mid-April is something most people would dread and yet, I was brimming with excitement and anticipation. To me, it presented an opportunity to break away from the monotonic work culture of Bangalore and to reminisce about the old days with my college wing-mate in the city I  once used to call my second home. Now, while sitting in my return flight to Bangalore,  I am penning down my memoir of this trip to Delhi.  Heat, Warmth and Hotheads Summer heat was the first thing I sensed after stepping out of my flight in Delhi. This experience completely wiped out whatever tranquil effect was lingering on from the mesmerising aerial view of the city from my flight- ’ The floating island of lights in the sea of darkness' . I estimated the temperature in Delhi at the moment - validated it using the Accuweather app and registered the fact that Delhi nights wer...
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The Days of Maggi and Masala

I f experiencing the unpleasant can trigger gleeful memories of past, then that spell in past must have been extraordinarily cheerful.   When I last wrote a blog, I was still in college. Writing a blog was one of the leisure I could pursue given the luxury of time. But more importantly, writing a blog was testimony of my naive belief that an idea should always be expressed and mere expression of a thought can spark a change in itself. Such were those days. Today I am writing to pay reverence to a time when to me world still appeared to be salvable (I am not certain of it being a word, but it suited my purpose the most).    "I am pissing steam" It all started with today's fucking cold weather in Bangalore. Yes, to my surprise, it does get chilly here. Though, it is not really worrisome, but it did get me thinking about the steam pissing cold ( as Tanuj would put it) we used to have in the campus. Those were the times when I used to leave a laptop under m...
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Missing link in dream and reality

"I desire things that will destroy me in the end" -- Sylvia Plath While looking out of my balcony, I can always spot a single star in the sky. Probably with the pollution level in Bangalore , the dim ones are hard to spot. If it was southern sky, I could bet it was Sirius. But I don't know what direction it is in and I am too lazy to make any efforts to find out. Moreover the name of the star does not matter. However, it has a similar symbolic significance for me as green light had Fitzgerald's Gatsby. A dream well conceived , clearly visualised and yet beyond grasp. A dream thoroughly cherished and yet unattained. This brings me to another haunting question. How do people start dreaming whatever they start dreaming about? Frankly, it's Gatsby who comes to rescue. Gatsby's dream incidentally was a outcome of exposure to the girl( I wish I remembered her but I don't even care about finding right now) .   We can't dream of things we cannot envisage. I...
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