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Days at the Morisaki Bookshop by Satoshi Yigasawa : A Book Review

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What happens when heartbreak takes you to a bookshop? For Takako, it leads to Morisaki Bookshop, a dusty second-hand store tucked away in Tokyo’s famous book district, Jimbocho. Battling heartbreak and the uncertainties of her mid-twenties, she moves in with her uncle Satoru and, slowly, begins to rebuild her life. The story itself is simple: a young woman finds new friends, discovers new writers and gradually reclaims her own narrative. But what makes this little book so soulful is the way Yagisawa captures the quiet magic of books and the people who love them. And then there is the smell of old books. That unmistakable, musty fragrance of a second-hand bookshop seems to seep through every page. As Takako begins reading, books slowly become her refuge. Reading becomes more than an escape. It becomes a way of seeing, feeling and understanding the world. “When I'm sad, I read. I can go on reading for hours. Reading quiets the turmoil I feel inside and brings me peace.” The...
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The Story of a Sunrise !

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Out of the blue, an idea popped out of a conversation with my friend; to see the sunrise at Eliots beach, Chennai. Two of her cousins joined the bandwagon to see the sun rising above the horizons of Chennai shores. I woke up at around 3 o clock and put on my trousers. Silence all around was clouted by the occasional barking of the dog. I walked a few steps through the alleys clothed in darkness inviting louder and scaring barks of the street dogs. I walked with all my bravery filled inside my shoes ready to take a long flight at any second.  I walked and reached Tambaram Station to board the Suburban train to Guindy.  It was morning 4’o clock and the train was teeming with hundreds engaged in their day to day activities. Early hours of a town has an element of beauty in it. The beauty of the ordinary life of its ordinary people. With a basket filled with guava, fruit selling woman began her day. Smile of early hours, Smile with freshness, hope and energy gleamed from her b...
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Life and Thoughts of Babasaheb

Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar is one of the most celebrated polymaths of twentieth century. He was a thinker, activist and social scientist who dedicated his life for the emanicipation of Dalit cause.He was a democrat , who fought an ideological and people's movement to reform Indian democracy. He defined democracy as the rule of political majority , not absolute or communal majority. A democracy is ill-functioning if the decision making process is devoid of proactive involvement of political minority. This formed the ideological basis of Ambedkarite thought of uprooting the caste reinforced social equilibrium. Reading Ambedkarite thought in Indian context, communal minority are dalits, tribals and religious minority. Ambedkar's reformist activism seeked to bring voices,fears and aspirations of communal minority in law making process of democracy. Ambedkar fought his reforms in three fronts - social, educational and political. Social Reforms : organize Ambedkar believed t...
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In a Story Telling Festival

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 The winter eve was lazy as ever. Dogs curled up in corners, unwilling to bark. Forget the lazy cloud and the shameless sun engaged in their deep slumber even as my clock ticked 2’o clock. Motionless trees have disconnected themselves from the wind around. As I walked past the gates of IGNCA, I was led to an open stage facing rising layers of semicircles seating the audience. The cushions wrapped in white cloth were placed over seating and ground left red carpeted. The branches and leaves of Peepal tree roofed the open stage sketching an ancient India into the space. Lighted uncolored bulbs were knitted on to the leaves painting eyes to the uneyed, yet the unblind trees. With its hundred eyes gazing at the stage waiting for the stories from across the world, its green leaved head let the calm breeze swing it to her winter symphony. Only her head and part of her brown rooted neck was visible for the people populating the space above the land.  A Hungarian Story Cr...
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Frozen : The Beast of Delhi Winter

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It was morning and the beast of winter was roaming wild in Delhi.   Clothed in multiple layer, I streamed through the crowded and clouded New Delhi railway station. Sun was hiding, rather hidden. I hurried to the Metro station, only crowded though. Beast is yet another animal, afraid of crowd. Exiting the burrows of Delhi Metro, I was yet again in the territory of the beast. I boarded a rickshaw. Teethed with wind, her claws tore apart me hunting for my warmth. I fought, my clothes fought. I thought I won. Then as I talked with the rickshaw wala, I saw my mouth ejaculating unfamiliar vapors. It was her exhausts. The beast was breathing through me. She didn’t get my warmth, but she took my breath. I looked at the sky for the yellow emperor. But the unwilling emperor had chosen to hide beneath the clouds.                                                 ...
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Its Raining and Its Summer ! Ooops I forgot Its Delhi too......

The tyranny of the summer continued across the Indian Capital.Its been a few weeks in Delhi .The Summer was in no mood to ease down his might. The hopes of a lighter summer vanished into the season's steam. To ice the steam beneath my inside and Delhi Air, I craved for the holy arrival of the monsoon gods. A desperate lover of rain resurfaced on me as I longed for her presence. Living a monotonous life can be extremely boring. And on yet one of those ordinary days, I woke up at 10:00 AM. Monotonicity broken. Not a good reason to reach office late though.But light creaking through the window panes appeared weak,dim and blunt. Frail and weak, it could hardly bounce back from the marble floor.Walking above the semi-corpses of light lying astray on the floor, I opened the door. I heard her dance. I heard her sing. There she was , beyond the gates , a feet away. She hopped through the streets with her anklet kissing rickshaws, roads and trees. Trapped inside her dark long hair...
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Kochi and a New Year

Multitudes throng the seaside pathways left moist by the unquiet growling of the Arabian Sea. Peeping into the sea, proudly stands on the shores Chinese fishing nets, memoirs of city’s glorious past.  Over every building, including communist offices and Hindu Temples, clings on a star echoing the festive spirit of Kochiites. Over the streets are scattered Christmas Cribs and twinkling lights aligning in beautiful patterns. On either sides of streets, plastic glitters creep into the ropes welcoming everyone to the biggest celebration of Kochiites. The remnants of the Christmas celebration have not yet sublimed, yet the air was smelling of the New Year celebration. Walking through the pathways clogged by street vendors, I sailed through the crowd loosing myself into the celebration. The brine scented wind breezed through the streets smoked up with automobile exhausts. To free myself from the clamor of urban life, I set out for the celebrating New Year in the soul o...
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