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Chandamama door ke...

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I do not have a coffee table. But I have my first coffee table book and it is....... Yes, Chandamama has brought out a 60th anniversary collector's edition and I wasted no time in getting it. Chandamama, Phantom, Mandrake the Magician, Flash Gordon, Target and Children's World - everytime we were transferred to a new place my dad would order these to be delivered by the newspaper wala. Being very young I couldn't quite keep track of which day was what so the coming of the comic was always a matter of great excitement and each page would be instantly relished in the lush hours of a Sunday morning while my parents slept late and the house was absolutely quiet. My favourite was Vikram aur Betal (which the book unfortunately calls Vetal which is NOT how it was in the original!) - it seemed to prolong the pleasures of the Amar Chitra Kathas being a long detailed prose story, rather than a comic, and with its tantric type of illustration it sent a thrill of fear for me. Always se

new business opportunity

Maybe we can head back to Lakshadweep after all - Vidya could become a scuba diving instructor since she loved it so much. And me, fashion victim that I am, I can sell THESE

Lakshadweep Log

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It has taken me over a month to post Lakshadweep pics but that's what it's like living in the love of the common people... So after the bluest lagoon, this was our second sight of Lakshadweep as we sat in a little wooden airport building, feeling a little like apprehended drug runners in Thailand. I had two best friends in school- Charu who became a doctor and Vidya who became an engineer. I as you know grew up and took pictures to post on a blog. But it is to be pointed out that of the three only Charu remained in a state of gainful employment. And thus it was that we found ourselves in Lakshadweep where she was on a 3 month deputation from her government hospital. After we landed in Agatti, we had to find a way to get to the helicopter that would take us to Kavaratti, the admin. capital where Charu was stationed. However we were paralysed by the way we sat in the wooden airport and a little nervous because everything there is so permission driven and language is something of

hum laut aaye hain...

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From here.... Lakshadweep has to be the most beautiful place I've ever been to. Words fail and pictures don't do justice. But both will be attempts will be posted - in a few days, because I've crash landed right into a welter of deadlines.

so gone

Am going here http://lakshadweep.nic.in/ So tags on return Anita!

extraordinary, just like a straw-berry!

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I have worked very hard the last few days. Been reading scripts submitted for a workshop - several of them and it's mind numbing in so many ways... I've earned me a drink. But I want a special one. A deserved one not a functional put the water in the vodka and the vodka in the girl one. So, here it is: a Dirty Pink Girl Recipe: Take 2-3 large strawberries and take off their shendis Make sure you've washed your hands before - no need to take the name literally Squeeze the strawberries, letting the juice run past your fingers, then mash the a little more between your fingers Drop them into glass Add vodka to taste, or need Top it up with water or soda Add ice Piyo Meri Jaan It tastes perfect and clean. Just the flavour of strawberries but no sweetness. Almost virtuous. And try not to see the resha resha of the strawberries as flaking doll's hair. Think of sea anemones instead.

the business of mixing business of pleasure

My house is smelling like America. People always talk about the smell of foreign that used to burst out of people's suitcases when they returned from abroad. But when you finally go to foreign you have your own idea of how it smells I think. The first time I smelled what I think of as the smell of America (to be correct the USA) was about ten years ago, in Crossword, when there was only one Crossword, next to Mahalkshmi temple. I had just started teaching at Sophia college and the occasional honorarium of (then ) Rs.450 seemed good for pleasure only, not the business of daily groceries. So I'd usually go to Crossword and buy a book, take a cab to the station instead of a bus after. And then one day standing like an upside down L in Indian fiction, then a modest shelf or two, I smelled the smell of good coffee, mixed with warm baking mixed with the heady smell of new books. I experienced severe disorientation. This was a smell that I smelled when I went to Louie's in Baltimo