And I'll just wink, smile and say that my city isn't as conventional as you think it to be. For when the world is showing support and solidarity with the homosexuals and the transgenders and when, in my country,
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Galatea
It is more like a surreal magic, a creation of one's own ideas. The embodiement of one's unspoken myth, to the creation of an universe one dare not speak of. It is realism that presents life as it is, and magical at times perhaps, where one goes through a tempest of one's nightmare and wakes up to an unusual sunrise. Life is more like a journey through a "heap of broken images", where nothing is right, but somewhere deep within contains the smiles and laughter amidst the chaos and turmoil.
Stories from Galatea

He found perspiring men having heated telephonic arguments regarding diya orders and broken pieces of earthenware scattered on the lanes. It was the busiest time of the year in Dharavi - it was three days before Diw...

The hand-pulled rickshaws in Kolkata are difficult for him to climb up and down from. He held two bags and the rickshaw-waala helped him with the other two. One could clearly figure out,

As the train geared up speed, the scenes & actions of London life appeared like different scenes from Shakespeare's plays being performed at the Globe. These images reminded him of Madras, of the liveliness of the p...

A masterstroke from the master himself, Satyajit Ray’s Pather Panchali neither shattered my beliefs, nor made me question my creativity of imagining Pather Panchali without the aid of Ray.

Our Mothers and our daughters bear the third eye. Invisible - kept concealed under the drop of vermillion. They are born with the spirit of the demon slayer. By chanting the invocation to Durga on the day of the Mah...

It all began with Adam and Eve – Eve offering Adam the apple, them gradually becoming friends and coming closer…and bang! They fell! Deep down the chasms of the earth, they were twisted and turned. They rose; one mu...

Other than the exchanges of warmth and security, there’s another most important thing. The foundation of every relationship - trust and faith. Promises were made based on which beautiful futures were planned. When t...

To sum up the whole thing, our life - the human life - is a rush and a race against time. Honestly, do we win this race? The answer is ‘No’. Our day starts with the ringing of the alarm and with a breakfast that doe...

Every now and then Phuli could see against the backdrop of her blistered wall, shadows of people walking by the lane hurriedly. The street light entered briskly through the broken, wooden shutters of her window, int...

She was very shocked and almost moved away from the physical contact, it was all so new, all so electric to her. Instead she leaned her head on his arm turned her head to take in the smell of his shirt and slowly ex...

Every instinct in his body urged him to flee, to not confront the worst nightmarish abomination of his childhood imagination. Yet some iota of curiosity that remained in his body kept him rooted to the spot, fixatin...

Ambitions, dreams, wants and needs are locked. Locked and trapped behind the iron gates, wrapped in cobweb. What wrong is it to dream? What wrong is it to seek for objects higher than

After paying his bill Mr. Sen left for his office. He was the Editor of a renowned English newspaper of Kolkata. While crossing the road he took a glimpse of the man, sitting by the window. He seemed to be lost in s...

What my childhood gave me, what it made me see, the playful days amidst the summer trees, the innocent talks of blissful frenzy ,when hurting one another meant snatching a candy, transformed to simple illusions. The...

Vaishnav poetry from Gitagovinda, Bhakti sangeet, songs of the Bauls, Bhatiali, Dhamli, Bhawaiya, Gombhira and Kavigan poems, the folk music of Bengal has a flavour of many. The most popular though, are the songs o...

F.R.I.E.N.D.S is a mirror to the crux of life— live, love and laugh. And know that friends are the heaven sent boon to everyone.

A man never steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man.

Who am I? I am every being who has been forcefully dented and painted. I am every man who has failed his innate desire on the scale of time.

I still remember how confused and scared I was to commit to a serious relationship.


Like a long lost addict who had found his fix again, I sat down with the book and started flipping through the pages…feeling their softness, re-reading my favourite episodes of...

“Monsoons are beautiful here, don't you think? Turning the city to poetry, to little sonnets,” Sreenanda smiled, sipping onto the warmest cup of tea after the rain had stopped.

Kusum never intended to keep it private. It was a joke for her, she made fun of her situation, her cock-eyed face and the colour of her skin, her husband and the other women.