Monthly Archives: February 2008

Notes from a Cemetery

The story is incredible. Scattered all over London are cemeteries known as the Magnificent Seven. The most famous one is the Highgate Cemetery. More than anything else, it offers a strange and creepy peek into the lives (no, the deaths) … Continue reading

Posted in History and Monuments, London, Photographs | 14 Comments

Minor Annoyances

Is it just me or does somebody else find it really annoying when someone says something like “It’s so nice you work. You must keep yourself occupied” or “It’s good that you work. Must keep you entertained and busy.” I’ve … Continue reading

Posted in Self | 22 Comments

If you read one thing today .. etc.

This is such an incredibly beautiful post. [via Marginal Revolution] The photographs are haunting, and the reflections on the remains of what was once a school books depository are almost creepy. Abandoned places have a strange impact. Either they amaze … Continue reading

Posted in Borrowed Words | 1 Comment

Jodhaa Akbar

The hall was packed. And I mean packed. Every seat taken. I promised myself that I wouldn’t crib about the historical inaccuracies. It’s a film. If I want history, I go back to my undergrad books. Jodhaa Akbar is full … Continue reading

Posted in Music, Film and Art | 11 Comments

Fiction Fragment: The End

All that they learned about love, they learned from the movies. That men and women declared glorious heterosexual love, sometimes fought with their families, and finally got married. That in the precise part that the couple were sitting solemn and … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry and Fiction | 7 Comments

Look! It’s one of The Beatles!

One of the dubious distinctions of studying where I study is that it is right next to the Royal Courts of Justice. Which usually means that that on days of “high-profile” cases being heard at the court, paparazzi fills the … Continue reading

Posted in London, Photographs | 9 Comments

Fiction Fragment: At the wedding

Everybody pretends to hate weddings. But they all turn up anyway. Maybe it was the free food, or the hope that their contemporaries weren’t doing so well after all. Her asthma was acting up. Perhaps it was the heavy perfumes. … Continue reading

Posted in Photographs, Poetry and Fiction | 24 Comments