Articles by Shweta Taneja

A few weeks ago, I’d just come out of my gym in RT Nagar when a couple with a child, looking as if they hailed from somewhere rural, approached me. Both of them asked me if I spoke Hindi and told me how they’d come to Bangalore on train from some place in Bihar, was summoned for a job by a contractor who had then cheated them. Now they were without money and couldn’t go back to their village. The man had tears in his eyes and the woman looked sad. It was late evening and they begged me to…

Till last year, I didn’t know who Paul Fernandes was, though I had seen his artwork all over Bangalore, occasionally colourfully covering up a bland restaurant wall or even an old space. I loved his work, without realising it was his work. Then, on a day walking during lunchtime, I stepped into his shop at Richard’s Park and connected all the humourous comic chronicles of 70s Bangalore I had seen strewn around in Bangalore. (And fell in love with a bag, but that’s another story). I stayed, my eyes crinkling with laughter at each of the framed posters.  As I left, I…

Around 9am on Sunday morning as I walked to my nearby slum where I teach yoga to superbly enthusiastic kids every week, I saw a poster hanging at its entrance. Rajnikanth’s smiling face jumped out of the poster. Alongside were two words in English: Happy Birthday. It  was a small poster, about A3 size, strung up casually, hanging in the air, tilted. The poster had more love than execution (Wish I had taken a picture, but I usually don’t take my phone to the class). Representative purpose only Before the class began, I asked the kids who put it there and…

Let me confess something first. I might have written books for kids, but till now hadn’t interacted with them much. Not the ones who are in the 9-13 years of age. Actually, not many at all. For writing, I had used the kid inside me. So when I committed myself to doing detective workshops at schools with Bookaroo, I had a whole week of sleepless nights! If I haven’t handled one kid, how would I deal with 100+? Would they get the mystery I had created? Would they like solving it? Would they be bored and fidgety? My first workshop…

Not so early in the morning, I look down from my third floor apartment. There’s a lady sweeping the dead-end road. I know her, though I don’t know her name. She wears the official BBMP coat and she collects garbage from each of the apartment building. Sometimes I see her, while walking, from a car and smile and wave at her. She smiles back. A beautiful, cheery smile, but with an edge of self-consciousness. As if unused to be smiled at. As if unacknowledged as a human by those who live in apartments. (Pic for representation only. Can’t find the…

She’s naked, covered with ashes, her hair matted with snakes in them, a garland of skulls and freshly cut heads around her neck. She laughs like madness herself, dancing to the chaotic rhythm of death, dragging a corpse behind her which she licks with her blood-red tongue from time to time. Now imagine meeting her in the middle of the night on a dark lonely path. Here’s an old description - a dhyana mantra of Guhya Kali, one of the forms of Kali. The tantric text is called Tantrasaara and is written by Krishnananda Aagamavgisa. “She is dark as a great cloud, clad in…

I don’t really know his name. Never need it I guess. The conversation with him happens because we cannot find a parking spot. It is eight in the night on a road near Commercial Street. The shops are still open and cars fill the tiny road. Me and husband are hungry and want to buy a burger from a shop nearby. A rickshaw driver stands parked on the road, blocking the space our car can fit it. I get down, request him to back it a little and direct my car in triumphantly. While the burgers are being ordered, since…

Last Sunday I took a friend and her nine-year-old daughter to Bull Temple in Bangalore. It’s the place with the country’s largest monolith bull - known to be Nandi, the servant bull of Shiva. The majestic Nandi far surpasses the tiny Shiva (who you almost miss in a small alcove behind the bull) in size, structure and sheer architecture. I promised this little nine-year-old lady who was too sleepy to be excited about a temple, with a true story after she had seen the Nandi in the temple. Once she was slightly woken up (and I was fast realising it was hard to…