A Bowl of Elusive

We don't give death that much of thought. While so many communities believe in the concept of an after-life, I have never bought into the premise. I think when a person dies, they stop to exist. Because the identity of a person is more than their body, it's who they are, their relationships with others and their interactions. Death brings an abrupt end to the whole thing. I know because I have lost three of my closest family members in the last two decades.  "On the 8th of March, 2000, I lost my father. He'd been suffering from kidney failure and after a seven month ordeal followed by eight days in a coma, he opened his eyes, looked at me, smiled and passed away. My memories of him were that of a hero. I had worshipped him all my life. There was nothing he couldn't do. He loved me more than anything. And I'll never forget him." That's how I summarize my father or his memory, when somebody asks. Somewhere down the line, his whole role in my l

The streets are merciless and they teach you the most brutal lessons. Chotu had no family, no relatives and he grew up in the arms of the streets of Mumbai. Chotu was a pickpocket, a thief, a grifter and anything else required to survive on the streets, all alone. He'd been in schools as a child and had picked up languages and enough education to pass off as a gentleman, something he knew he wasn't. But life was a big pretence for Chotu and he didn't mind being a little different from the street urchins he grew up with. He had friends who'd come up with ideas for scams and cons and he'd plan them out and run them, taking advantage of his innate charm, often conning people of thousands of rupees. After every scam, he'd leave the town for a new one. It was healthy that way, because he hated the troubles his cons created for people and he had to run away from them. His last job hadn't gone that well and Chotu now found himself hiding out in a quaint litt

Just the other night, I had this weird little dream. I was on a family vacation with my father. He looked young as he always used to and I was my present age. As it usually is with dreams, you tend to forget the details. So I am having hard time remembering where we were. All I remember is that there was water in the background and I was trying to make my father pose with me for a selfie. After several attempts I got it right. And I remember feeling in my dream that this selfie was really special, even though I couldn't figure out why. Frankly, I am not a big fan of selfies anymore. It wasn't until I woke up from the dream that I realized why that selfie was so special. My father has been dead for sixteen years and that picture could never exist. It was a strange feeling dreaming about him. I know this must sound like a very silly thing to write about.  But there was something about how I felt in the dream. A kind of serenity that I haven't felt in years. My