"I have had a very difficult life. A motherless child, I have been working for as long as I remember. Then God gave me a drunkard for a husband. But I did not lose hope. Even while carrying my four children, I continued to work as a daily wage labourer. I am a fighter. I fought for a BPL (below poverty line) card. I fought to get a house allotted from the government. Slowly we added two rooms and a kitchen to it.
The beginning of a year does little to excite me. Try as I may, I cannot drum up the enthusiasm to celebrate this artificial division of time, despite being a January baby to whom it is often pointed out that double the festivities are called for.
Not chosen this world where six men can brutally beat and rape a 23 year old and leave her with injuries so ugly that they even shock doctors.
Nature put up two grand shows these last few days. The first battered the east cost of the USA, the second rammed through Sri Lanka and Tamil Nadu.
By the time Grief was done with me, I was a shrivelled, inutile mass of waste.
I discovered Rajesh Khanna one summer vacation spent obsessively watching his movies.
Umamani is promising to change the face of the Babu Jagjivan Ram ward. Her impassioned appeal goes: "Sirf aapka ek matra vote badal dega apke ward ki tasveer…" (Just one vote will change the picture of your ward).
I spoke to her in the course of helping a foreign journalist working on a story on Indian marriages.
Sometimes the only roads that lead home are the ones that lead away from it.
Last weekend I discovered Angry Birds. Life has not been the same since.For the uninitiated, this is a video game where wingless birds have to be aimed from slingshots to destroy pigs in a variety of positions and behind varied contraptions.
Three years ago, his father, Moreti, fell under a pile of earth he was digging at the Sahu brick field where he had worked for 20 years.
In recent times, much is being talked and imagined about the Indian prickliness, the touchy ability to get offended over every slight.
My earliest election memory goes back to the time when I was in school, much before I had read my first chapter of Civics and certainly much before I had seen the inside of a voting booth
A snippet in my morning newspaper told me the other day that a schoolboy was suspended for sexually harassing his teacher. The boy had apparently called his teacher ‘cute’ and that merited grave and exemplary action against him.
According to the Bhagvad Gita, the Ganga is to rivers what sharks are to fish - supreme, unrivalled and majestic