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@sourabha
Leading this session is an honour. Join me at MoD, Church Street.
If you’re free and feel like joining us, please register at: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdHNF7VYVwKCmd5frzeyjvuzUbabvo1pL5MrDgbvX9u_DJKJQ/viewform?pli=1
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Nolan, sir, no oceans churned with me
We are big fans of your work. But, if only silences could speak more and not exposition, your interpretation of a foundational Western epic hero would have been far more glorious. Majority humans on Earth are anti-war and your story had earned it already from its obvious moments from the beginning. Odysseus could have drawn us much closer without having to explain what his character feels every…
One of my many mothers in Malénāḍu
Even with the strikingly contrasting colour of her saree, I have never seen a human being blending so effortlessly into the landscape they inhabit. She understands her land better than any scientist I’ve known in all of my work experience, and I will stand by this declaration for as long as I’m alive. And not only does she understand her land but also cares deeply day after day about that is good…
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A gift from Hamnet, thanks to Richter
I’ll keep harping on the goodness of violins and cellos in this glorious composition by Richter. It’s as though the violins mistake the fibres of my heart for their own strings, and they bow them mercilessly. This one piece helped me grieve my granny’s loss when the movie came out, much like Will and Agnes grieving Hamnet. I return to its alleviating heart every time that specific grief returns…
Language, the love that has stayed. Malénāḍu, the love for which I’ll learn to live — live well — well no matter what.
Despite all odds. A girl, alone on a sunny afternoon, reading this in 2026. That says something. Also, I’m returning to my beloved Malénāḍu not only physically but also emotionally and mentally again and again. Again and again and again. These details in Karanthajja’s novels are all now familiar ones, my own world of truths. Mine and mine alone. Living with these books has been one of my sane…
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99th episode of Padayaatre from our very own UK
Padayaatre from our UK for me this time. We were all happy that our beloved Subraaya Hegade (fellow Padayaatre member, artist and poet, Anushaa Hegade’s father) joined us, giving us glimpses into his extraordinary mind that has known Uttara Kannada — and beyond — as comprehensively as one can. The cicada frenzy has been incessant, thrilling, and the hibiscus plants to my right were swaying with…
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“Chhaa kuḍyalléné?”
“Chhaa kuḍyalléné?” asks (or rather demands) this two-and-a-half-year-old little Havyaka thing, as I pack my things up to leave for the day. She is a forest-child, aptly named Prakriti. How does her tiny heart know hospitality? This simply is samskaara, isn’t it, to simply care for their fellow beings. And it takes less than two minutes for me to fall in love with her, the stunning light of her…
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The strange blessing that physical torment is
There are days when physical pain is so kind that it gives the mind something tangible to deal with, instead of drowning in emotional and mental anguish.
A cosmoheart. ವಿಶ್ವಮನಸ್ಸು.
To be fiercely local, but joyfully global. From Kāl̥idāsa to Keats, Shambhajja to Schaller, Nambiar to Solnit, Ekkundi to Attenborough. to turn a stranger to oneselfto embrace all of the worldto become a cosmoheart ತನಗೆ ತಾನೇ ಅನ್ಯನಾಗಿ ಜಗವನೆಲ್ಲ ಆಲಂಗಿಸಿಕೊಳ್ಳುವ ವಿಶ್ವಮನಸ್ಸು
My life begins again, beyond a broken promise.
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my life begins again beyond a broken promise
Where Jackfruit Falls
the air, thick with jackfruit scentintoxicated, intoxicatingremembering a monsoon lovesoft as mossas rain-soaked Earth on whichfalls the ripe jackfruita deep thudlike my heart
Udupi, I come to the heart of you. Again.
Away from the tourist din, Udupi, I come to the heart of you. Again. And I will come again. And again. Seeking stories, seeking healing, seeking to discard the need to be seen — wholly — and to be able to see this world and listen to it as innocently, as purely as I can. All eyes, all ears, just enough mind, and every bloody muscle of my heart, my heart, my heart.
Continuing my Yakshagāna research. Drowning in awe.
Meeting Dr. Nambiar again in Udupi next week. 23 months of reading, spending time with scholars, listening. Learning. Being humiliated by a few Dakshina Kannada folks for being an “outsider”: what do you know about Yakshagāna? Here’s what I know: to focus on WHAT is right, not WHO is right, like Mr. Joshi says. Hungering for authenticity. Yakshagāna, continue to haunt me. Teach me.
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Intellectual biographes
Some interesting “CV”s of some favourite filmmakers, conservationists I’ve been eyeing on the Internet. Funny to use that acronym. So many of them are “intellectual biographies”, if you will. Crazily inspiring accomplishments. The whole narrative just changed for me from “what I’ve done” to “what questions has my life been asking”. Goodness gracious! Who knew a mundane, material thing could be…
Sahyadri Aves 14 of 101: Puff-Throated Babbler
in the forests you inhabit leaf-litter is not the floor at all it is another sky what we dismiss as dead leaves is your larder you stride inquisitively through yesterday for breakfast shy, inhabiting the undergrowth a woodland poet suggesting canopy is not the only magic in a forest nothing in your world is beneath you you need no philosophy, you simply live one your throat swells when…
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Sahyadri Aves 13 of 101: Indian Roller
you are almost unfair to poetry for you keep your greatest beauty hiddenuntil the exact moment you choose to leavemodest when perched with your earthy lilacs, dusty turquoisestill for long stretches and then, lightning you open your wings oceans and skies burst into being you roll through the sky, for love, for hunger luminous, light remembering blue you are not for constant display but…
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