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Showing posts from June, 2018

When the Building Came Alive

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Kasturi Dhama Apartments — the play area where many evenings came alive. The lights would go out without warning. For a brief second, the entire building would fall silent. Then, from somewhere in Kasturi Dhama Apartments, a chorus would erupt. “Yayyy!” It is difficult to imagine children celebrating a power failure today. But in the Bangalore of the nineties and early 2000s, a power cut did not always feel like an inconvenience. Especially in the late evenings, it felt like permission. Permission to stop whatever we were doing, leave the darkness inside our homes, and step into the building outside. Before Kasturi Dhama became home, we had moved through a few different parts of Bangalore. My family had begun in Srirampuram and Vyalikaval before gradually cementing ourselves in Malleswaram for the next few decades. My earliest memory is of living in a vatara —a Kannada word loosely used for a building or a cluster of homes—on 15th Cross, near Karur Vy...

The insecurities

Akhil loves storytelling time.  He imagines a multitude and wants to convey a million things.  It's fascinating how blissfully he con construct something totally random and make sense of it.  There is a Neato cleaning robot at home which Akhil is super scared of and so we have carefully hidden it.  Every bedtime ritual involves something about this robot. Appa, tell me Neato stoiee (story). First, it went along the lines of, "Akhil pressed the Neato button.  The Neato went near Akhil's kaal (feet), Akhil got scared and so Appa pressed the button, and the Neato went back to the charging station." After some time, who pressed the Neato button was a game by itself.  Sometimes, it was a dinosaur; sometimes, it was his friend, Mukund.  Sometimes, Akhil was the savior in comforting everyone who was scared of the Neato. Storytelling has evolved over time.  It used to be me leading him on a story. I used to frame whatever imagination I had in con...