The heat has no fragrance, neither feeling, nor touch, or sense or sensuality. The heat has no memory, neither thought nor feeling.
It's a sleazy game played with eyes wide shut, this new perversity of backward capitalism in poverty-stricken India, and the rich man's god is enjoying himself in heaven and everything is alright w
More than 35 dead and almost 20 burnt bodies discovered near the fated, shut door without a key, leading to the terrace at the staircase of Stephen's Court in Park Street, Calcutta.
He knew on this Wednesday, this was his day and his night, as the magical narrative would unfold, like a gentle predator in the wild who has no threat perception
The Hitchcockian fog in Delhi carried the moist midnight north wind from the mountains and the cinematic night unfolded without a sense of mystery.
Prime Minister Manmohan Singh is proud of the political economy of liberalisation.
It's just that despite everything hope floats. It arrives with the miracle of anticipation, like waiting for the winter chill, and it stays back in dream and wakefulness when an orange morning enters the window and lights up the corridors. The wind says hello to the subdued sunshine.
It's just that the wounds of partition have not healed.
The centre of the vicious circle?
Albert Camus would say that it's the human condition which creates the recipe for rebellion: rebellion is a priori in the human condition.
Because, in his freedom also lies our collective redemption
One reader says that KKR can only make it if Karan Johar is made the coach. What say you? Main Hoon Na?