Smelling a pink silk tree flower, Raluca Sidon, a visitor from Bucharest, Romania, says, “I’m seeing it for the first time. It doesn’t grow in my country. I have only read about them in books.” Read more
I know someone who is too matlabi, too romantic, too dreamy. He lives in Mehrauli and wants to have a persona of a wannabe novelist – lonely, eccentric, elusive.
He is writing a novel that he hopes would make him big. He would become a millionaire and buy a penthouse apartment in Nizamuddin East, next to Humayun’s Tomb. He would turn it into a writer’s studio. It would become his home for all time to come and no one would be invited to this snug little den. He would have no friend, no lover, no spouse. Except a dog which he would name Editor. Read more