gabbles.blogspot.com
gabbles
http://gabbles.blogspot.com/2005/09/miracle-man_21.html
Wednesday, September 21, 2005. Tracking a person is the hardest thing I've done to death. But it's the thing I know how to do. I follow the prey with all the keenness of a bloodhound. Or, I would like to believe that I do. It's not quite so hard, though. I've done this forever. Reading people, following people. It's knowing people that I try to do. That's my job. Knowing people. I'm good at it. That's why they hire me. Give it to me," I croak again, and I thrust my hand out. I ask, handling the tie in my...
gabbles.blogspot.com
gabbles
http://gabbles.blogspot.com/2005_07_01_archive.html
Thursday, July 28, 2005. This is Delhi, my adopted home. How strange it is, the Querulous wonders. I’ve lived here in this city for close to seven years now, yet this is my first proper visit to the fort. My first visit, since I was a five-year old child in a powder blue jumpsuit, walking along with the customary traveling pair of Bengali parents. (Bengalis travel that’s what we do, intrepid pioneers of the first order! Have I seen you before? The Quiet is suckling on a finger. Perhaps, in Calcutta?
gabbles.blogspot.com
gabbles
http://gabbles.blogspot.com/2005_01_01_archive.html
Friday, January 28, 2005. A pox on the ex's of the world. She thought, and suddenly found herself giggling on the road at the idea, but then stifled her laugh after a moment's indulgence, becoming all too aware, amid shooting flushes of red on her cheeks, that a fat man with a balding pate and the door man at the store, where she had bought the full-sleeved striped shirt, had turned to watch her. That's such a weird thing to say. I never called it a day. And that woman's silent sniffling drew his attenti...
gabbles.blogspot.com
gabbles
http://gabbles.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html
Tuesday, May 31, 2005. You were leaning against the pillar when I saw you, looking at me. I felt violated in that first instant, but then it didn’t matter after that. You were something new and different. Something that this city offered me every day, and I refused each time. Contradiction in my soul, I looked at you, and I thought you smiled. This time, I could not help myself, so the smile broadened, and I say, I can tell you’re an expert on him. No, not an expert! It might have ended there. It mig...
gabbles.blogspot.com
gabbles
http://gabbles.blogspot.com/2005_02_01_archive.html
Monday, February 28, 2005. It was hard to imagine they were playing a song like that on the radio at prime time, but there it was, an uncontestable truth. He adjusted the headphone in his right ear, and stood on the platform, hands punched into the pockets of his denim jacket, waiting for the Andheri local to come chugging along. Like a Bridge over troubled waters. I will lay me down. Simon and Garfunkel had always held a special place for him, and it was one of his favourite tunes: one of their most.
gabbles.blogspot.com
gabbles
http://gabbles.blogspot.com/2005/10/blue.html
Friday, October 07, 2005. Not sure what it feels like when you step through the fire storm. Perhaps, it’s something like this. Hot and cold at the same time. Cliched and novel. Something new that you can’t really describe because your teeth are chattering and your hands are shivering. Try to remove the lens from your eyes but you can’t, because your fingers twitch. The remnants of torture and the memory of a bite. You can see the crimson mark his fangs left on your arm, and you shudder. I really like whe...
gabbles.blogspot.com
gabbles
http://gabbles.blogspot.com/2005_08_01_archive.html
Wednesday, August 31, 2005. Not me. I'm the pragmatic one. Or so I like to think. Because that's all one can do. Think. And hope. And realize that, in the end, it was all meant to be. Terrible to think there was a murder here, only last week. That sort of thing never happens in Bombay. That's the kind of thing people in Delhi are so used to, not us, not. I guess that makes me the fool. I smile, for I see you, and I wave. You wave back, and a rush of happy blood surges to my brain. It sounds funny to put ...
gabbles.blogspot.com
gabbles
http://gabbles.blogspot.com/2006/06/dancer-in-paradise.html
Sunday, June 25, 2006. The Dancer in Paradise. The Dancer in Paradise. God knows I wanted to let you in. He's actually my uncle," you said, and I turned around at the comment. You were goodlooking, quite goodlooking, I thought, that was my first impression. Also, a smartass for venturing your opinion where none had been asked for, and I let you know that. I'm sorry, do I know you? I replied, steely voice in tow. And, I don't know what compelled me, I said 'yes'. It all came out. You're the great auth...
gabbles.blogspot.com
gabbles
http://gabbles.blogspot.com/2005_09_01_archive.html
Wednesday, September 21, 2005. Tracking a person is the hardest thing I've done to death. But it's the thing I know how to do. I follow the prey with all the keenness of a bloodhound. Or, I would like to believe that I do. It's not quite so hard, though. I've done this forever. Reading people, following people. It's knowing people that I try to do. That's my job. Knowing people. I'm good at it. That's why they hire me. Give it to me," I croak again, and I thrust my hand out. I ask, handling the tie in my...
gabbles.blogspot.com
gabbles
http://gabbles.blogspot.com/2005/07/evening-haze.html
Thursday, July 28, 2005. This is Delhi, my adopted home. How strange it is, the Querulous wonders. I’ve lived here in this city for close to seven years now, yet this is my first proper visit to the fort. My first visit, since I was a five-year old child in a powder blue jumpsuit, walking along with the customary traveling pair of Bengali parents. (Bengalis travel that’s what we do, intrepid pioneers of the first order! Have I seen you before? The Quiet is suckling on a finger. Perhaps, in Calcutta?
