Rashmi's Space

It was on a cold December morning that I read an email asking me if I would like to review a book on Cricket. Coming from an editor who takes her work very seriously, this gave me a pause.   I couldn’t help but wonder why she would ask me, of all people, to review a book on sports! I am not much of a sports fan. I have never written on sports before. Fiction , yes, parenting , oh, yes; general book reviews , definitely yes! But sports? And that too, Cricket? Growing up, I’d always seen my dad scold my brother for ‘wasting his time’ watching ball-by-ball play of one-day matches when he would watch cricket instead of studying for his exams. I remember hiding the remote from my brother just so I could watch HBO and not let him watch cricket. But of course, marriage, as we all know, is a game changer. After I was married , I was introduced to the world of cricket. No, my husband isn’t a big cricket fan or anything, he doesn’t watch ball-by-ball matches either, but he does watc

Clay figurines. Colourful. Vibrant. Bucolic. That is their trade. Dealing in snazzy, bright clay figurines, bowls, masks, wall-hangings. They sit by the side of the road. Their wares displayed along the pavement. So people can see when passing – on foot, in their cars. Every once in a while, someone passes in their car and then parks the car further along the road and comes walking back to inspect something that has caught their eye. They ask the price. Which is usually not too much. They still bargain. And eventually, at a much lesser price than the artifact is worth, they buy the piece. It will look amazing on their feature wall, they think. It will dazzle their boring passageway. It will welcome their guests warmly... But more often than not, no one buys much. Especially on working days. Busy days. When the adults are rushing to and back from work and the children are tired, being taken to school and back. But they still sit there. Their wares spread. Eve