Book: The Strange Library, Haruki Murakami The brainwave to find this book came about when I saw a slim book titled, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, a memoir by the author. It was in the bookshelf of a friend, and she mentioned that she likes the writing. I was inclined to get the … Continue reading Strange, but still, a library
Book: The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy I am holidaying. In a manner of speaking. I stay home with small children while the other half of us has urgent things to do before we leave once again. It is Kerala. Humid, hot, frustrating. Sometimes beautiful if we are indoors and it is raining. … Continue reading A strange place to return to
Book: The Long Gaze Back, An Anthology of Irish Women Writers, edited by Sinéad Gleeson It is April and it is raining in Ireland. I am reading a short story set in the early 1900s, and the weather in April is the exact same! The man says of his wife, ...but experience is wasted upon … Continue reading Spring in Ireland
Book: The hour past midnight, Salma, translated by Lakshmi Holmstrom Part 1 - Tamil Nadu I have spent this month with the women of The hour past midnight. I started the book imagining how I could keep track of the multitude of women who populate this story. But save a few odd characters, each woman in … Continue reading The slow hours
Part 4 - Assam I remember once watching an Assamese movie on Doordarshan long ago. There were some strange goings on as I could not keep up with the subtitles, and maybe someone dead? The movie showed a woman working on a wooden instrument that ground rice. She operated it using her hands and and … Continue reading People, mountains, stories?
Book: Father May Be an Elephant and Mother Only a Small Basket, But..., Gogu Shyamala Part 1 - Telangana The title story refers to a Madiga saying. The father is like the giant who everyone looks up to, they wait for him when he goes away to bring some fortunes to the family. The mother on the … Continue reading Dalit stories from a Telangana village
I am Fatima, the writer here on the blog. I was born in Kerala but spent my growing up years in many Indian towns. For four years we lived at one of the camps of my father, while I was in primary school. The all encompassing memory of that time is the continuous play we … Continue reading In many places