I live in Delhi; and also in all the places Iâve been, and very often in all the places I want to be in or imagine myself to have been in. I love the hills and forests; and music, and laughter, and filter coffee, yoga, cooking, walking and comfortable silences. I write, scribble, doodle and sketch; daydream a lot; read a little bit and remember very little.
O Gentle and Tolerant Reader, fervent apologies for my long silence. And I shall pretend I didnât hear those dismayed cries of âAiyoo Muruga! Heâs back!â and âWhat! We didnât even notice your absence!â and âHave you considered a five-year silent penance in some remote Himalayan fastness  likeâĶ
Valentineâs Day always awakens my romantic nature, as Iâm sure it does yours, O most Adored Reader. Todayâs February 13thâthe Eve of this glorious Festival of Romance! The Eve of V-Day, that Ancient India gifted to the world under its many original names like Harappaâs âBelan Daine Dinâ,âĶ
Asim Munirâs Dump Truck, Trumpâs Grump, Pakistan’s Bhagavad Gita Inspiration, and How Pakistan Won the Asia Cup Believe it or not, O Dear Gentle Reader, I started to write this a few days after the Indian Director General of Military Operations (DGMO) granted the Pakistanâs DGMOâs pleasâĶ
O Gentle and Patient Reader, I take the liberty of posting an articleâa lament of sortsâwritten by my dear and departed friend Ghatotkacha in late 2008, soon after the terrible attack by Pakistani-trained terrorists on Mumbai on 26th November 2008. Ghatotkacha was my guide, my teacher, so closeâĶ
