Lying on my bed in the warm glow of the afternoon sunlight, which is now soft but sometimes still unbearable, I started watching, without my glasses, mango leaves move ever so slightly in a blur of deep green and light,
After my car broke down last night just outside the city, I walked into this strange lone building looking for some help. The building was empty, only a big room painted red was filled with men, only men—they were beautiful,
Looking at my somewhat grim face in the mirror, I remembered what a writer from New York had said to me about the city that is home. Sitting across the table, he had told me that Jaipur made him
My eyes closed for a moment and suddenly everything seemed slower. I sat down trying to make sense of it: things were more tactile, filled with more sensuality, absolute feeling—I knew even as it unfolded that it was a dream. Was it?
I woke up at 7:30 in the morning from a dream of a woman whose face was covered with the smoke of her cigarette, and even though the smoke must have disappeared almost instantly I couldn’t see her face and
Her gaze struck me, almost by mistake, as I was leaning against one of the white columns of Connaught Place. I saw her seeing others and we looked at each other, perhaps for a little more than three seconds. I
Last night, the sound of my own heartbeat woke me up. It beat so loudly, so certainly, as if it would continue to beat forever. I lay there listening to it for a while, trying to understand why and how