It is a purple night. The coniferous trees are tapering to the sky in dangerous sharpening of tools. The canopied ones look like fleshy scythes. Kenilworth Castle is a mound of black. We walk down to Abbey Fields Park. Two parapet walls on either side mark the entry to the parking lot. There are other … Continue reading Abbey Fields
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Chidiya Tapu brought this back - One of the earliest memories that I have of being a child are those where my mother animatedly fed me. She’d bring a plate with my food, sit next to me and patiently ball the food, craftily hiding any elements that may at sight inconvenience this every day ritual … Continue reading Chidiya Tapu, South Andaman
It is a Latchadeepam, a lakh flames. For fifteen years of my life, I’ve lived in a small town called Villupuram in the state of Tamil Nadu in India. I’ve always considered it to be one of the blandest places of my life. I’ve rarely ventured out, except for regular visits to the church, to … Continue reading Latchadeepam (A lakh flames)
~ Written after leaving the familiar Bakewell ~ Some say it is in the familiarity of everyday that our soul lies. And if somehow, by some means you are detached from this familiarity, you feel a longing, an ache you wish you weren’t feeling. Losing a long kept job, finishing three years at university, marrying … Continue reading Familiar Bakewell
I believe in God. I believe everyone gets to see God, at least once in a while. This is what happened with God in Grasmere. When we arrived in Grasmere, after a three and a half hour journey from Coventry, darkness was already setting in. We drove past Windermere, past River Rothay and the Swan … Continue reading God in Grasmere…
She removed herself swiftly from the cab in front of Canley Crematorium and began to jot down in words the following: ‘Entrance to Charter Chapel, Gardens of Remembrance and Cemetry’. The map at the very entrance caught her eye: of course, it wasn’t everyday that she came across areas marked ‘Weeping Willow’, ‘Book of Remembrance’, … Continue reading Canley Crematorium
It’s called the hidden gem of Warwickshire. But we find it easily- nestled on the A429, next to the International Warwick Riding School and a few miles away from where Edward Plantagenet was supposedly beheaded. We creep quietly with our cars, leaving tracks in gravel which is wet constantly by the constancy of rain. This … Continue reading Remains and Leftovers – Guy’s Cliffe House
I was one of those people who scorned at street graffiti being called art, now I am saved. But I am not going to call it Street Art or Wall Art or Contemporary Art, I’m going to call it Art. There is Art everywhere in Shoreditch – on a locksmith’s door, on a Punjabi restaurant’s … Continue reading Shoreditch, proclaim, proclaim, art.
Many say that Bangalore isn’t for the weak hearted- it is for the young at heart and wild in spirit. Truth is, my Bangalore is for everybody. It adapts like the kindest mother we’d ever have. Every time, and without fail. In the morning, the scent of new flowers in Madivala market, Vinayagar statues lined … Continue reading My Bangalore
So once in a lifetime, you get to go to Paris and when in Paris, from most of the Rues nearby, you see the Eiffel Tower. You see it in the morning when you take your bus around. And all day through, you keep hearing stories about how the Eiffel Tower was built for an … Continue reading Misty Eiffel Tower
அவ்ரீனா AVRINA, poet and writer 