Rohini Mohan's Blog, page 2

Dementia

Again, you have woken up to ask where
the child is. How must it be when people walk out of your sleep into
the space behind your bed's headboard, pull at your bedsheet and say a few
words, argue vehemently and disobey you as youngsters do, then
disappear into the dark when the exhausted daughter -- you had less grey hair at her age-- standing in front
of you says, "There is no one, it is 3am,

The force of sensitivity

In the Indian Express, Pratiksha Baxi writes about the depressing disconnect between justice to rape survivors and the history of anti-rape laws. While making a case for court proceedings, she also writes about the trauma of publicity, and media representations of sexual violence:

"The trauma is aggravated by publicity, peer pressure and the fear of loss of employment. Hence, counselling must

The interviewee

When he told me of stories of how he 'fooled' this guy, and 'won over' that man, I often wonder if I am one of those stories to someone else. After some years in reporting, it becomes second nature to tell when a person is lying, or when he/she is pulling at heart strings, or playing to the media pitch. Lying is a part of the game. Almost everyone exaggerates. Justifies. Withholds. Decorates.

Separate lives

Tossing and turning in bed, hearing time move on, second by long second, I often try to make lists, hoping that the effort of organising will exhaust me, bore me to a slow slumber. But sometimes, I pick the wrong topics: the places where I have had the best coffees, the movies that defined my idea of love, the clothes I used to have forever but one day disappeared, the number of times they

Return back anthe

My city has changed so much. I'm forced to shorten the checklist, shrink my expectations, conjure up new defences. But some things are paved deep into Bangalore's twisted 40th-Cross-12th Main- 1A Cross-roads. Some barely noticeable things that make all the difference, like the red chutney in the masala dosa.Rain and the odd embarrassment about carrying an umbrella, CO smell in hair, fanless cool

Tick

Tock 
Tick
Tock
There must be a name for the fear of the clock.