'Criti....que not Criti....cize'

Name of the Book:   Half-Open Windows   Author:   Ganesh  Matkari   Translated by  Jerry Pinto (from Marathi)   No. of Pages:   194   Publisher:   Speaking Tiger (2017), Originally published in Marathi :  Samakalin  Prakashan  ( 2014 )   Genre:  Fiction   Price:   INR 299   For someone who identifies as a Mumbaikar even before identifying as she/ her,   Half-Open Windows  brought with it a b reath  of fresh air from  Mumbai’s  Queen’s Necklace on an unusually hot evening in Bengaluru.    With piping hot  chai  for company, Jerry Pinto’s translation of Ganesh Matkari’s  Khidkya   A r dhya   Ugh a dya  had fleeting glimpses of the Mumbai I grew up in, which now boasts of high rises riding over the slums. High rises with growing molds of loneliness, overthinking, and the accompanying cost of development that a city  must...

Beautiful long hair, golden hoops, sarees that spoke elan and a speed that never ceased to surprise me.  My evenings were spent at her place -- exploring her daughter's (who went on to become one of my close aides) sticker collections, books and the kind of stationery that left me awestruck.  Her son soon became my go to 'project manager', quite literally. Once, he spent hours drawing a 'hand' for me on a chart paper. It was a school project that I couldn't pull off well myself thanks to my scary human sketches. Well, it didn't stop at chart paper. He also ensured that it was stuck neatly on a cardboard sheet, coloured to such perfection that it could for a moment look as if someone had clicked a picture and stuck to the cardboard. My first set of formal wear came from her daughter. My love for books grew at their place. I am sure both her children spent quite a fortune on me while I was growing up -- by buying me knick knacks to things I still c...

"I tried 11 times and couldn't get it right. Wow! How do you do it, sir?" "I tried 12 times and got it right the twelfth time." Firsts are always special, especially the first job right after college.  An interview at one of India's oldest newspaper offices— in my favourite place in Mumbai— nervousness did peak at one point that day. However, all of it just vanished when I met the person who was going to change my life in more ways than one. He wore a cap (I still can't imagine him without it because I have never seen him without it) and had a voice that could put anyone to ease. I went back home after the interview in a happy state of mind. Soon, I was part of the newspaper office that gave me my first set of "colleagues" and workplace memories. And anchoring it all was the man wearing a cap(e) of kindness and gentleness.  A rare and unmatchable sense of humour often led to laughter that reached outside the editor's room despite the glass ...

9.50 PM, 28 July 2025: A mountain of clothes smiling from a corner of the room. Or, are they grumpy for not being sunkissed and smelling fresh? Can't predict. Thanks to the weather. It could be both. Just like I was this morning.  Had forgotten that it's not a hotel and that I was back to adulting -- washing and drying clothes would not really end. I rather gear up for Part 2 of the road trip kahani (story) , exactly a week after the night we said goodbye to Ganesh mess (my husband halfheartedly, because he did not get a porotta for dinner).  After Rameshwaram's night views and sounds, we knew that "seeing" the sun rise the next morning sounded like a distant dream.  Anyway, since enquiries were done the previous night, the guys did not have trouble finding tea early in the morning. Dhanushkodi beckoned soon after. After what seemed like a drive through a road away from the vagaries of city life, we were soon on a road that offered scenic views of the Arabian Sea...

Those who have convinced me to take a road trip in my life are well aware of how that is no joke. Some who might be reading this may already be making faces. On road, in a four wheeler-- a car precisely--the thought can sometimes lead me to go in search of a bag (not the backpack but a plastic one for obvious reason). While a bike trip to Kabini is next on their list (was before this trip but due to signing me up inadvertently or advertently, they are still waiting for it), they decided Rameshwaram, Dhanushkodi and Madurai be the next destinations. And guess what? I was the one supposed to design the itinerary. Why? So that they could very well ignore my sarcasm and breathe easy.  So, for the first time in my life, I learnt to put AI to good use. Wow! It's really worth exploring. But (sorry to break your bubble guys, it was indeed AI peppered with our dialogues, and not DI), of course, better than any AI, the gang had already come up with a list of places to eat bun porotta , jigar...

Bangalore's weather, my mood-- they seem to be taking a leaf from each other. Do you know how it feels when a long awaited dream finally becomes a reality?  Before the elders in my family (waiting with bated breath) start their congratulatory calls, I have to confess: our website went live a few days back. While we still keep adorning the living, breathing creature with little, new ornaments each day, other things waiting for my attention came knocking together.  A quick lunch was on as usual-- me at my desk, looking at the phone, the laptop-- switching screens in between mouthfuls of chapati and tendli I hurriedly prepared earlier this morning.  Mind you! It was no mean feat, especially when I have to be on high alert with my ears acting like my earphones, muting nearby noises to make sure I do not miss the sound of the garbage van. I have to be a little faster than it, if I have to ensure that the bucketful of wet waste leaves home. And then the phone rang. I picked it...