Punish Our Engineers..!

Every time I hit a pothole; I feel I’ve just had a close encounter with a badly behaved asteroid. It jumps at my car without warning, crashes into my suspension system, and leaves me muttering words unfit for Sunday sermons. And while my poor vehicle groans from its underbelly, somewhere…

Too Much Rain..!

There’s a sloshing sound in my shoes, and it isn’t spiritual joy. It’s water. Rainwater. Precious, holy, long-prayed-for, utterly annoying rainwater. And as I squish my way across the housing society where I live, I hear my neighbor yell, “Bas karo Bhagwan, bas karo!” That’s Hindi for “Enough, God, enough!”…

No Ceasefire, Only Surrender..!

It’s a strange word—surrender. One we don’t like to touch, let alone use. It feels like failure, doesn’t it? Like waving a white flag while the enemy smirks and moves in for the selfie. We’d much rather say ceasefire, or truce, or negotiation, thank you very much. But surrender? No,…

Echoes from a Garden Bench..!

Yesterday, I attended a memorial meeting of a man who spoke softly but left deep impressions—Mr. Noronha. Ninety-five years old. The gathering was held in the garden where he once walked each morning, nodding at the trees, stopping to pat a stray, and sometimes humming under his breath. The weather…

Faith to be Cured..!

Many years ago, I attended a healing service of Pastor Benny Hinn, watched a parade of crutches, walkers, and wheelchairs parked at the back like a garage sale of broken dreams. The preacher waved his arms like a seasoned orchestra conductor, his voice reaching a crescendo, “You shall be healed!”…

Please Believe Us..!

So now we’re sending a delegation. Yes, a “Truth Team,” armed with PowerPoint presentations, handshakes, and Shashi Tharoor’s vocabulary, to convince the world: “This time, honest, we’re telling the truth.” Apparently, bombing terrorist camps, which was a much-needed act and done well and precisely, needs a footnote these days: “Please…

Air-Vents All Clogged Sir..!

The AC in my bedroom conked out in the middle of the night. Not sputtered. Not whimpered. It just gave up, like a resigned bureaucrat on a Friday afternoon. One moment I was wrapped in Himalayan bliss, the next I was drenched in Sahara sweat. And so I tossed and…