mist, heat, light, rain

  I broke my wrist. I broke my wrist on Wednesday, planning to leave for London on Monday. I broke my wrist on Wednesday, planning to leave for London on Monday, attend a masked ball ballet on Thursday, after visiting the queen’s gallery. I wanted to meet an old dear friend and his dog, visit…

The quiet back home

The silence within my walls is profound.  In India, there is quiet punctuated by the sounds of activity: the vendors, the motorcycles, the cook coming in, the incessant phone.   Here my silent cats sleep, and as there is a chill, my windows are shut.  The noise I hear is the fridge, mildly roaring.  I…

Another circle, another fan

This time in my aunt’s house, in Chennai.  Can time be measured in circling ceiling fans, beating back the heat?  In the afternoons, perhaps, but mornings, papers rustle, the breeze cool.  It’s been almost ten years since I’ve been here last.  The family has gotten smaller, and grief leaks.  My father; my uncle.  Meals are served,…

Unpacked, Mostly, with Some Photographs

There is an essay by Natalia Ginzberg in which she writes about disliking summer: the heat, the crowds.  I felt a kinship immediately.  Summer for me is the cool shade, sipping cold drinks, and reading.  It is seeing the sea in the mist, the sharp clarity of mountain air.  And it is vacation to other…