Every once in a while, I like to immerse myself in a proper British mystery novel. And where else to turn to but to the Queen of Crime and her favorite detective, Hercule Poirot. The Mystery of the Blue Train begins with the introduction of distantly related characters, each with their own nuances, dark secrets, and ambitions. The tone for murder is set early. Also, if you have read enough of Agatha Christie, at least…
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If I were to describe Taare Zameen Par in one line, I’d say – A movie that takes you back to your childhood days and makes you question society’s insistence on being the best. Aamir Khan’s directorial debut TZP is the story of a dyslexic boy struggling for his identity. Ishaan Awasthi (Darsheel Safary) is a misfit in a world enamoured by grades, ranks and trophies. Labelled a loser by his teachers, friends and classmates; he finds…
I am not the first reviewer to compare Rules of Civility to The Great Gatsby. Both are period dramas set in the glamorous worlds of high society of New York with a doomed romance at their center. It’s probably literary blasphemy to say so, but I found Rules of Civility infinitely preferable. I never did have any patience for the story of the purposeless life of the bored rich and their poor life choices. Maybe…
- Book ReviewsCultureTop Reads
The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets – Life, Love and London in 1950s
by VipulaThe Lost Art of Keeping Secrets is one of those books that does really well on the book blogger circuit. It’s literary enough to catch a more discerning reader and sufficiently romantic to appeal to a more casual purveyor of books. The Plot Based in post-war Britain, this is a story of the friendship of three twenty-somethings – Penelope, Charlotte, and Henry. And that is just one layer of the story. Eva Rice transports the…
- Book ReviewsCultureDestinationsHong Kong
Hong Kong Noir – A Journey Through It’s Underbelly
by VipulaThis July, I fell in love with Hong Kong. It was quick and unexpected and on short three- day stopover trip en route to Los Angeles. With temperatures in the 90s and typhoon season humidity, those few days are a sweaty blur in my mind. But I remember the feeling of being in a giant mass of humanity, of a place of some importance. As I boarded my flight back home, I carried specific images…
I step out from under the dirty brown awning of my three-story apartment building. The grey cracked concrete walkway to the street is littered with a soggy, muddy old copy of the Los Angeles Times, pages falling out of the flimsy string holding it together. An empty Starbucks plastic cup (tall) rolls over brightly printed car wash coupons, charred cigarette butts sneak from under the sun-baked yellow grass, dead bougainvillea flowers sit degenerating into pulp…
