Anusha SreekantOn refusing loveWhat do we do when we realize that we never loved anything we ever loved? What happens when from Auden’s poetry and Keats’ verse, we start…Sep 21, 20221Sep 21, 20221
Anusha SreekantWhen I tell you I forgot all about you, remember…Have you ever thought about what crosses the child’s mind when they first see rain? The drumming of it on a rooftop, like so many children…Apr 11, 2022Apr 11, 2022
Anusha SreekantArt for more than art’s sakeI do not know when I will learn to look again at the sky without imagining people falling. I am terrified of reading now. I am terrified…Feb 8, 2022Feb 8, 2022
Anusha SreekantWaiting for ammaShe asks me if the book is an account of a ‘real’ person. I tell her that it is, or might be, at least partially. Or that it could be. And…Feb 8, 2022Feb 8, 2022
Anusha SreekantThe Eulogy of Mr MongooseAll beginnings are from ends. Some are a tad mightier than the rest.Jan 28, 2022Jan 28, 2022
Anusha SreekantThe Last LetterIt is fascinating how people die — with their long to-do lists intact on the refrigerator doors. With conversations brushed aside for later…Jan 7, 2022Jan 7, 2022
Anusha SreekantShopping for envelopesShe is clad in crimson, the sunlight elevates her by many realms. Her eyes glisten in some sparse memory, and I can see her stories…Jan 7, 2022Jan 7, 2022
Anusha SreekantLanguage? Language! Shakespeare, Beckett, and an Idea of Theatre“At the center of everything beautiful, there is cruelty.”Jul 31, 2020Jul 31, 2020
Anusha SreekantThe Pursuit of FreedomFreedom is a virtue. Or a vice. Depending on whose freedom we are discussing.Jul 16, 2020Jul 16, 2020
Anusha SreekantMinistry of Memories and Keeping AliveThis is a start in the middle of a nowhere. This is not the first book I have read but in its own way, it makes for a good beginning.Jun 23, 2020Jun 23, 2020
