RIFLE RANGE BOY

Fastfood, Amritsar style ©JMatthew There I was clinging on to the side-rail and my dear life as the auto-rickshaw needled its way through the tiny alleys squeezing through the passage with surgical precision that only a neurosurgeon can outdo. Stunts that these fellows can do, even Evel Knievel would fail. They knew their vehicles like the back of their hands as if their machines were extra appendages of their bodies. They do not need a reverse camera to judge the distance to the car behind them. Neither required is the irritating tones of sensors for their work. They just need their car horns. Have honk will travel! They swerve past pedestrians leaving a trail of dust and smoke without a care in the world. The blaring horns seem not a last-minute desperate measure to alert but instead gave rhythm to the rickety vehicle and noisy engines like Illayaraja's percussions accompanying his masterpiece. The automan's joy and pride, his horn, gave warnings of different tones, fr...

A friend whom I know was complaining to me recently. I know him as a faithful servant of a temple. He spends most of his precious free time doing chores at a temple with the believe that he was doing his bit to keep the faith going. He was hoping that his little deeds, will keep the seed of his religion going. His conviction was further strengthened when an offspring came into the picture after many futile attempts of medical intervention at fertility. He was compelled to accept that that produce was indeed divine in origin but not the immaculate type! Tmn Connaught to Angkasapuri Hence, his journey into the Divine deepened. He felt that he had to give his life and soul trying to live up the messages imbibed in the good Books. Within the confines of his abode and the surroundings of his place of worship, living it up to the teachings were no brainer. Everyone visiting the house of God naturally became well behaved. He had control of the behaviour of his family members in his hou...