Kallola

When was the last time you said, “I wish …”, and stopped short, because either you didn’t really know what you wanted or, worse, you knew you couldn’t have it? On the first day of June, when most children spent their last day of summer at home around adults preparing for another weekly battle against the world, there were some lucky ones that got to indulge in their longed for Sunday lie-in. There was, however, another set of mad-hatters who decided to break free.                           Together with a burly band of khakhi-clad foot soldiers of the local administration and scrawny women with no more than the expectation of an extra day’s wage  (and of course, everything else that they could guilt out),  for something they should have been deployed to do in the working week, anyway, a bunch of urban enthusiasts of all ages, who would not settle for compromise any more, got about scraping up the m...

Star of Mysore, Feature Article. 06 May 2013.   It takes little to spark an inferno when it comes to community, beliefs and opinions. And such discussions become very important when foreign circumstances come into play.   Allow me to explain. From a particularly sensitive quarter, came a seemingly innocent query into the relevance of old culture in our fast evolving modern day. As expected, it instantly turned foul when the enquirer stated his own sentiment.    The reason for it to take such an immediate wrong turn was that, while he was happy to be associated with the community on its dedicated social networking forum, his views strongly suggested abandoning all traditional customs. Naturally, all hell broke loose and while the moderates tempered the situation, a question loomed: “Who are we, without our traditions?”     Those close to home, clearly, don't see these contemplations as life-chan...

Deccan Herald. Sunday, March 15, 2009 (ref: Full circle ) http://www.deccanherald.com/Content/Mar152009/artic20090314124029.asp A love-struck adolescent dished out 45 rupees for a single stalk of red rose. There were more in line for larger numbers and even gallant bouquets. Some others hovered ever so romantically about their belles while I simply watched with a smile in my heart. Inadvertently, though, I was also darting my eyes around protectively, just in case there was a vile party pooper, eagerly waiting for his hapless victims to make the first mistake. To my relief, even the black cat decided against crossing the road and walked tamely along the pavement. What I also saw was an undeniable fear relegated to an external cache, certainly not accessible for that day. In another part of the city, the Aero India show zipped ahead. The crowds on the ground thronged with a gusto overwhelming enough to match the daredevilry of fighter pilots manouvering their supersonic toys through ...

- Coffeland News. Fri, September 12, 2008. - Bangalore Mirror. Sun, September 14, 2008. I walked into my parents-in-laws’ house one day, to find the kitchen and part of the dining room under siege. Warm and sweet-smelling, the vapours of steaming rice filled my senses, as I stood in the familiar aroma of my favourite dish. For a quick moment, I tranced back to a life I was married away from, just months earlier. As my husband pushed past to get the car ready for the long drive, my mother-in-law was already onto her second round of kadambutté . The sekala simmered away on the hob and the pandi curry came to a boil. As I tucked into the putté - my first involvement with a community I was yet to meet, my father-in-law wore a beam on his face and proudly educated me on what was to come. We were getting ready for the annual gathering of the Coorgs in the UK- an eagerly awaited event at home. For six long years, my father-in-law oversaw these re-unions, with my mother-in-law in the backgr...