Am I squandering my time by living so quietly? Ordinarily? Routinely? Am I meant for more than what my life looks like right now? What if I find comfort in routine, repetition and order? What if I genuinely find joy in the everyday? Must a meaningful life be remarkable or extraordinary in some way? If you ask me what’s up or what’s new, I’m afraid I won’t have much to say. The bookshelf is dusted, the plants have been watered, my daughter is fed, the cookie jar is full. The succulent is still alive. I buy groceries. The kettle whistles. I brew coffee. The day passes gently. There is hardly anything glamorous about my life. I don’t remember the last time I travelled or partied. I don’t remember the last time I made money. I don’t remember the last time I weighed 60 kilograms. I don’t belong to any fancy…
Adam Blakeney sat on a barstool in Murphy’s Tavern on Jefferson Street in Detroit. As he drank the last of his Irish coffee, he…
At Baltal, the gateway to the Zoji La in the Kashmir Valley, Sandeep completed his inspection of the integrated smart safety system. Everything checked…
Author: Julian Cribb Publisher: Cambridge University Press. Cambridge, UK. Print length: 218 pp Price: $17.99 Australian journalist Julian Cribb is providing a major service…
Burn the Haystack: Decode Dating, Torch the Duds, And Make Room for Men Who Matter. Written by Jennie Young, PhD. William Morrow, a Division…
“Dada, are you alright?” Pralay enquired, his eyes fixed on the figure of a man lying on his back beside the road. There was…
In our town, known throughout the province as a place of uncommon common knowledge about solving its own problems, was a man known as…
Like in his early days during his undergraduate course in medical science, Anindya was slowly slipping into the darkness again. This was no ordinary…
The dust in the drawing room of the Basu household never quite settled, but on that fateful afternoon the Higher Secondary results were announced,…
“Eureka!” An exclamation of triumph reverberates through the empty library of the Asiatic Society in Park Street. The whitewashed walls glare back in silence,…
