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The lowland

Now reading another Lahiri… love her writing style.


Interpreter of maladies

Loving every word of every story. She takes the ordinary things, in ordinary lives and makes them extraordinary.

While her style is her own… it invokes the same feeling as does Julian Barnes’ writing


Now Reading: Northanger Abbey

I have begun my long overdue exploration of Jane Austen. Feel free to read along with me online or download the text from Project Gutenberg… 15 more words


Now Reading (Catch-up): Curtsies & Conspiracies by Gail Carriger

I cannot believe that it took me nearly a month to finish The Essence! I could have finished it easily in a couple of days but no. 1,100 more words

Now Reading

Book Review: Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell

Title: Eleanor & Park

Author: Rainbow Rowell

Series/Standalone?: Standalone

Genre: Romance

Yes, I’ll admit it, despite that we’re taught to “never judge a book by its cover” from pretty much the day we are born, I did exactly that with this particular novel. 427 more words

General Blog

Don't touch my laundry!

Having neglected this blog for the last 2 years, it’s probably time to revive it, especially with the dearth of OD. Unfortunately my first personal entry has to be a rant, especially this morning’s happenings! 435 more words

Now Reading

Into the wild

He had stopped writing the journals 
The pages were smelling of weed
Tramping around in the middle of nowhere 
He had lost the utmost necessaties of existence 
A paradoxical levity however defined the situation aptly 
The truth was found in this surprisingly conventional existence 
The officers questioned him about his whereabouts 
To which he replied in a peeved tone
“I’d rather not talk about my alibi, I’m living my life my way for sometime now”
Moved about from the corners of the streets 
He lay bricks on their expectations 
Denuded mountains and a cask full of crippled hopes separated him from his loved ones
He spent his evenings gazing at the indescribable tint of the rainbow 
With stardust captivating the left over soul
The tangibility of dreams mocked at his living
Fifty bucks and 2 unlit cigarettes 
Was all he had for another months dormancy
The people were curious
They wanted to know what he desired for
All the snowbirds now are afraid of losing their children.