She would tell me about how she and her three younger sisters would, after their morning house-chores, sit on the little flight of steps on the western part of my ancestral home. That was before she got married, in the late sixties.
Masquerading as Puram in the novel, Thiruvananthapuram seeps into the lives of each character, becoming part of their struggle to escape the confines of a sweltering city, bound by its own conservative stereotypes and intrinsic duplicity, while the winds of global change challenges its age-old insularity.
The next site talks about whiskey. Now, that is interesting. There is not a drop at home, since I am so abnormal not to have a liquor collection at home. It seems to be a fashion these days when I go to my friends’ homes and all of them seem to have acquired a bar counter plus a liquor collection to go with it.
On a visit home few months back, Amma and I were having this general conversation and, in relation to something, she refers to Idea Star Singer – Nee, Thiruvananthapurathu Idea Star Singer kanarundo? I don’t know where this is going and I have this deep-seated guilt that I have been on a constant spree of evil by not watching it.
Yes, weddings are the very point of swift flight into the unknown. To let go, and fill our self with the wonder of the new sights that manifest, and take wing across the firmament, on to the unknown lands that lie beyond the cloak of night.
To write is to live your life again – the characters, milieu and events referenced from the fabric of one’s memory. And when Orhan Pamuk talks about writing, the world sits up to listen.
A veneer of dirt clouds your thought when you are done with Beautiful Thing.
The IHM Chronicles Series
On My Nightstand
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