Category Archives: Rose Apple Island

Journey of a neopilgrim – Kedarnath (part 3 of 4)

‘Anything you are attached to, give that. Go to the places that scare you.’ Machik Lapdrön In the high plateau under the gaze of snow-capped mountains Puttiah ambles away in the direction of the temple. I wonder where he plans … Continue reading

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Journey of a neopilgrim— Kedarnath (Part 2 of 3)

September 10th, 2015 ‘Pilgrims recognize one another by a capacity for wonder, and a gut-level discomfort with bigotry.‘ From Pilgrim’s India The sun has not yet risen but my mood is already quickening. I dress fast, having prepared my pack … Continue reading

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Journey of a neopilgrim – Kedarnath (part 1 of 3)

‘There is no happiness for him who does not travel, Rohita! Thus we have heard, Living in the society of men, the best man becomes a sinner….Therefore, wander!’ Indra (Protector of Travelers) to a young man named Rohita September 9, … Continue reading

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Radical friendship and the end of the guru

Again I catch a glimpse of a recalibration of the politics of the knower, the known and the as yet unknower/unknown. I see Liberation Camaraderies replacing Mystical Theocracies. Continue reading

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Hitchhiker’s guide to duality

Surely, the man wasn’t going to tear Prem’s arm out of his socket while he was driving! Even cannibals must have some code of honour, even if they are short on table manners. Continue reading

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The backstrap

One professor of literature told me that after her mother had died of stomach cancer, she had not been able to cook for three months because the system wouldn’t let her refill her kitchen gas cylinder. She had visited the concerned office six times to appeal, but the clerks kept telling her that her mother needed to come to make the payment. Continue reading

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The Ganga Chronicles – Stone Cold Tigers

Finally finished this rather long short story that I had originally posted in parts. Here all four parts in one. The whole story pizza. Enjoy. Vijay Chaudary was worried about his carbuncle. Three pedicures in the past week alone, and there it … Continue reading

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My scalp itches for release

Every morning from the steps of Meer Ghat, I hear the unmistakable sound of middle-aged and elderly women getting their heads shaved. The act of shaving is silent. The sound is the barrage of instructions lobbed at their young male … Continue reading

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The unforgettable Mr Sharif

I boasted among men that I had known you. They see your pictures in all works of mine… I put my tales of you into lingering songs. The secret gushes from my heart. Rabindranath Tagore Mr. Sharif parted the crowds … Continue reading

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Audio Journey of a Neo Pilgrim

 Click on the photo…

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