Whispering Shadow

When you were one, perhaps the only thing that mattered to you was a nice siesta. All you had to do is just sleep, eat, and then sleep again. Say a little bit of dida and momma in your tongue and not bother about the syntax of the language. A little later, the latest toy became the obsession. You then moved on to school. Education then was a lot different than what it is now-a- days, whether you coloured the giraffe purple or green, it really didn’t matter. There was no protocol to follow, not many rules to abide by, except the rationing of the television viewing time, based on intense negotiations with mummy dearest. Most young lads would express their desires to become pilots by profession when they wrote their first few compositions and they had the belief in them that it was a realistic goal. You could cry when in pain, without having to feel embarrassed about it. You could dance in the rain and you would not have to straighten up, when you see a pedestrian staring at you. You coul...

“Sir, would you prefer a window or an isle seat?” the lady at the check-in desk asked me, and a smile crossed my face. “Window,” I said. I have flown so many times before but the silly fascination of sitting on the window seat watching the action out of those tiny vacuumed glass cubes remains unchanged from what it was when I took my first flight. An airplane always brings back the kid in me. I especially was not going to miss this opportunity because, it was late afternoon, and this is the time when you get the best view. After the security checks and a cup of coffee, I boarded the plane. As always, I was as eager as the maintenance engineer to find out what was happening in that open turbine cabinet and the hydraulic shafts and kept catching glances from the corner of my eye. I so hate waiting in anticipation of a good co-passenger. So far, on most occasions I have been unable to find that vivacious person with whom you can strike an interesting conversation during the course of the ...

Ban Orkut. Ban Valentine's day. Ban this. Ban that. After all, freedom of expression is only theoretical. It's the fundamentalists who control the actual nature of our democracy. I don't think any of are unfamiliar with these agitations? Shiv Sena. Rings a bell? Even more hilarious was the recent movement to rename Bombay Blues to Mumbai Blues. Like poet's have a poetic license, entrepreneur's surely do have the right to name their ventures at least! Besides, Bombay Blues is quite a name in dining. It's like asking the Indian National Congress to change their name to Bharatiya Rashtriya Parishad. Knowing how jobless Shiv Sainiks are at present, and how much I love giving advice when it is not asked for, here are a few more suggestions to keep them busy, keeping in mind their calibre. 1>Rename Indian Idol to Bharatiya Idol. Sinful showing videsi names on national television. 2>Make sure all names are written in Marathi too on hoardings and magazine covers. ...

I am self-confessed Potter-maniac. I am obsessed with the books and am eagerly awaiting the last instalment of the series. Since anyone and everyone is making their predictions about the end the story is going to meet, I really can't keep my big long nose out of it. As far as Harry being a horcrux goes, it is improbable that Voldemort would want to kill Harry and destroy his horcrux. So far, we know about the following horcruxes: 1.Tom Riddle’s Diary (destroyed in Chamber of Secrets) 2.Marvolo Gaunt’s Ring (destroyed by Dumbledore in HBP) 3.The Locket (apparently destroyed by R.A.B – Regulus Black) 4.The Hufflepuff Cup (not a certainity though) 5.Nagini, the snake (again Dumbledore’s guess) 6. ???? Voldemort split his soul into seven parts of which the last part is still with him. At least for now we can be sure of the fact that Harry is not one of the 6 horcruxes Voldemort had created before he was banished. It is possible that he might be an unintentionally created Horcrux which...

Ever felt hungry? Stupid question that. Ever felt like eating out? It is a rarity that any one normal will say ‘no’ to that. Ever felt like eating out without having to burn a hole in your pocket? Now I know you are listening. But where do you find such a place? Is it the new neighbourhood restaurant? Naah. Or is it one of the ever increasing number of food franchises (Read McDonald’s, Dominos, Pizza Hut). Definitely not. It is what sets Mumbai apart as far as its reputation for a food lover’s paradise goes. Traditionally it was the paav vada and chaiwala stalls. With time this has evolved. Now you have cuisines from all over India and in some places, from places abroad too. The streets of Mumbai have been the residence of some of the city’s finest inventors of fusion cuisines. Thought there are many places worth a mention, this entry is dedicated to my regular haunt, the ‘ khau galli ’ at Ghatkopar. The moment the clock strikes 5 in the evening, a busy but boring street junction tur...

It has been a relatively long time since I last posted an entry on the blog. Surprisingly, I had enough to write on while my oral exams were on. Now, when I have nothing to do in the PL, I have nothing to write in my blog either. Actually it is not that I don't have anything to write, but then, the boredom is sapping away all the creativity, like a black hole. Often I have visited this page in the last few days, clicked on the create button and ended up writing a para and shortly after, pressed ALT+F4. This entry is a collection of all those random ideas put together into one long crazy potpourri. Read ahead at your own risk. The first one in the list, Unearthed , a brilliant reality show. For the first time I felt that it was something close to reality, throwing away all those glycerin bottles and sentimental prayers witnessed by the hidden cameras in the bed rooms. I am a documentary lover so this one had my special attention. It was about 6 budding wild-life film makers fighting...

No, I am not talking about the resistance and tolerance that we, wannabe engineers talk about as a part of our curriculum. Nor is this one inspired by the just concluded viva session. It is truly not something to write home about. I am talking about resistance to religious intolerance. I will take a walk down memory lane, back to my school days. I did my schooling at an Asian school in the Gulf. I am glad I was a part of the institution I was in. It wasn’t because of the teachers, nor was it the infrastructure and facilities, nor was it the amazing co-curricular and extra-curricular set-up. It was plainly because of the cosmopolitan nature of the crowd. We had people from at least 6 different nationalities, the majority being Indians, followed in numbers by Pakistanis. There were also people from possibly all the religions which are known to me today. We had friends amongst all. When we were friends, never did the question of nationalities or religion come in. We celebrated Eid, Christ...