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

Rains? Oh, adrak wali chai (ginger tea) and pakode (fritters) to the rescue! As much as pop culture has glorified that feeling, has anyone felt gloomy with the continuous downpour -- the relentless rainfall, which often takes away homes and roads with it? The gloom descended this morning, thanks to a sunny sky. I felt these smileys today. 🌞☀️ Closer home, what the rains did till yesterday was to not allow clothes to dry, to linger as a smell that refused to budge despite pouring floor cleaning soapy liquid and a copious amount of the liquid that claims to kill 99.9% of germs including the one that is responsible for the Covid- 19 pandemic. While I think of splashing that liquid all over the world via a helicopter, my nose rang an alarm in my brain. Yet again. Ah! That semi-dry, modern version of poncha (wiping stick) was the culprit. While the dream of a fragrant home (with flowers blooming all over for dramatic effect) remained a dream, I had to then fish out agarbathis (incense s...

That's the thing about books. To each his own. Recommendations and reviews work only to a point. I, for one, love to randomly pick up books and read. Here are a few of my favourite underrated books which I feel one must pick up at least once in life: 1. The Small Island by Andrea Levy  Not the usual black vs white terror story but a beautiful, subtle, bittersweet tale of a journey through ups and downs of life. It made me wonder why I got that book for Rs 50 at a Books by Kilo exhibition. She is definitely a magician when it comes to words. For those who prefer short stories more, you may start with Six Stories and an Essay by the same author.   2. Purple Hibiscus  by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, popular for We Should All Be Feminists   Simply for the detailing and the brusque nature of her storytelling. Can't imagine anyone else writing about water scarcity like she did in the book (that's definitely not what the tale is about though). But such is her writing...

The clouds seem to have drifted away to let the sun a little sneak peak into our lives today. Phew! 4 days later. Thank you, Kerala for the weather. Oops. I take back my words for here comes the lashing rains, yet again.  Twice or thrice I checked if my vision was playing tricks upon me in these past few days. Then I realised, it had to do with the tricks of the clouds. I switched on the lights and lo and behold! It was bright all over again. While the rains lash down, I am transported to last night when the soil lay drenched and I sat like a panda under a huge blanket while Malik beckoned. My husband couldn't wait to click on the play button. After a long time, I was excited to see a movie trailer and ever since I did, I eagerly waited for Malik .  And it started. Nimisha & Fahadh -- my heart did a double somersault. Then came the ones who have been part of some remarkable  Malayalam movies since few years now -- Vinay Fortt, Dileesh Pothan, Dinesh Prabhakar, Parvat...

Zikora by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie My rating: 4 of 5 stars Name of the book: Zikora (a short story) Name of the author: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Publisher: Amazon Original Stories, Seattle @amazon Cover design: Kimberly Glyder Number of pages: 34 Probably one of the most hard-hitting stories I read this year, this is another gem from Chimamanda. A short read from Amazon Original Stories, this wouldn't take more than an hour's time to complete. However, be rest assured that its impact will stay for a long time to come. The connection between a mother and her child is such that the world may sometimes find it unable to understand. Sometimes, even the mother and child may find it difficult to understand. But the battles that they overcome often have a tale of their own. Here's one such story. The name Zikora is apparently of Nigerian origin meaning "show the world that my God is good." The photo clicked by yours truly with the cover page of the book beside the flo...

Rain lashes outside the windows Washing away the mud people scurried over a while back Freshly made bed, pillows fluffed up Sprawled upon it a thousand memories, Time ticks away. It was 11.26 just three minutes ago. Or 23.26. Charlatan thoughts they are Fastidious care, theirs. Washing away the hours she scurried over a while back. Time ticks away. Doesn't it, always? The blueprint in the making, Do they go back to it After buildings have fallen, without grace? Time ticks away, like it never cared. Rubble. People. Rubble. Trapped, beyond rescue. Gracefully frozen beneath the din For time ticks away... like it must. Wrapped in six yards of silk, she thought this was it. She walked with a large brass plate towards the altar, Carrying the garlands that would seal the loose ends -- bit by bit. The bridal gait, the overflowing love, some jealous looks -- she now looked at it from afar. Who knew the walk was towards her own end? A bright, young lady walking towards her own doom?  Vismaya...

It probably started with the weeklong 10.30am -4.30pm Faculty Development Programme that I enrolled in. Attentively being part of it by setting up the phone in an angle so as to best suit my professional seating arrangement to avoid any backaches later, came with its varied troubles. But more on it later. So from a Monday to another Monday later, Tuesday night brought with it a mild pain on my left hand. It traversed to the shoulder. Thanks to being Papa's girl, I doubted for a second whether it was a heart attack, but shushed my overworking brain and went back to reading the Hangwoman.  Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday later, on Friday, after mom finally took me to task, I decided I may as well pay a visit to a doctor. The thought that it was a government hospital and the charges are Rs. 5 further fascinated me (I have been tremendously happy about the services at Kerala on a previous visit and swear by them).    The sight that greeted me was of a clean hospital with a fi...

Papa's school friend was laid to rest today. After spending quite some time in the hospital fighting varied illnesses, he breathed his last. Peacefully, I hope. Because I remember him saying around this time last year that he was fed up of medicines and treatment and would rather prefer to leave. While the world mourns someone's passing almost every day, it's when people whom we have known (however small a period) leave, that it usually hits or nudges some corner of our heart to reminisce. Surendran uncle   Surendran, or 'Papa's classmate' as I fondly called him, and papa reconnected last year. Papa used to tell us how uncle's mother used to tell him that while it was my grandmother who gave birth to him, it was she who took care of him. She loved him like her own son.   While we counted days post the lockdown, here was a friendship that rekindled over chats while watching the sunset, sitting on an almost collapsing bridge (it's been like tha...