Many a time, we travel alone both metaphorically and otherwise, and whenever we do that, we tend to ruminate over the quality time spent with our loved ones. M.V.L.Narasamamba writes a poem about how we try to fill the gaps that are within and next to us.
Bangalore, to Shruthi Rao, is an individual in her own right. She’s known her for decades and loves her even now as much as she did then, in spite of what Bangalore has now become. This passage is an attempt to understand why.
It was July 2013. The Telegram service in India had been closed down. Rajagopalan was transported back to the summer of 1955, when he had sent a telegram from Jabalpur to Thanjavur. Raghu Sarangarajan tells the story, based on true incidents, of the telegram’s message and the aftermath.
‘The 7 to 9 Funk’ is Sneha Sundaram’s nostalgic ode to first loves, Mumbai monsoons, Shah Rukh Khan and reminiscing about dancing in the rain.
A mother misses her baby girl, now an angst-ridden teenager. Sudha Nair tells the story.
Parth Pandya traces the journey of a relationship in a poem that weaves together memories and the present.
Every older generation has so much to share about our past; so many stories that tell us who we are. Deepa Venkatraghvan was fortunate to have been able to speak with her maternal grandfather about his life and also document his nostalgia. Although she regrets not having done that on her paternal side, she believes all is not lost yet.
What makes us all teary-eyed when we grow nostalgic of the days that were? Nandagopal attempts to find an answer through a poem which stresses that in the end, nostalgia is all about our dire attempts to make peace with Father Time himself.
For most of us who live in cities away from childhood homes, a trip back home is always full of surprises and a walk down memory lane. We rarely get the time to notice the changes, not in the things we lost, but in the people we loved the most, our parents. And sometimes, when we stop rushing through busy lives and let the tiniest memories wash over our senses, we feel, a true sense of being, at home. Debleena Roy writes a short story.