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Tagore claims that the first time he experienced the thrill of poetry was when he encountered the children's rhyme 'Jal pare/pata nare' ('Rain falls / The leaf trembles) n Iswrchandra Vidyasagar's Bengali primer Barna Parichay (Introducing the Alphabet). There are at least two revealing things about this citation. The first is that, as Bengali scholars have remarked, Tagore's memory, and predilection, lead him to misquote and rewrite the li..
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tagore
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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This is what's beautiful about staying in a club or hotel: you're invisible, as is your neighbour.
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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History is always lying before you, unnoticed: till you suddenly see it, as we do now.
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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Each view has a history. You sense you're where others have been.
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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I treat vegetarianism as a phase that might any second end without warning.
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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Photographers are the new Brahmins: we have no volition when they rule us.
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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An hour's a symbolic duration.
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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Fantasists aren't natural readers. They grow restive easily.
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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History was what had happened; class was something you read about in a book.
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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'Calcutta has still not recovered from history: people mourn the past, and abhor it deeply.'
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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'The car horns created an anxious music, discordant but not indifferent.'
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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'... he sang with his eyes squeezed tight, as if he were dropping from a great height.'
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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'... a severe woman with a patient but unprevaricating gaze, who turned out to be Indira Gandhi.'
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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'Gulp by gulp, in the air-conditioned study, he swallowed civilisation.'
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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'Internationalism' is a way of reading, and not a demography of readership ...'
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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'Light shafted obliquely on it.' ( The Steamer )
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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'As the sun came up, we/saw the leaves peer out, shivering.' ( Letter from the Hills )
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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'a speck of dust hanging/in a vertical wall of light.' ( Letter from the Hills )
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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In the oldest, bunched houses with tottering stairs,
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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These small freshwater fish
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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'... the menu's a delirious poem/on which the names of Moghlai and Punjabi and Parsi/
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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'This morning he'd discovered the bathroom light on, its lustre wasted in daylight.'
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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the cleverest way of battling the heat was not moving.
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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Trenches and mounds of dust everywhere give the city a strange bombed-out look.
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Amit Chaudhuri |
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the floor was a stone slab of coolness, an expanse of warm ice that would not melt.
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Amit Chaudhuri |