deepanjana
deepanjana
author & journalist
 
 

Hello hello!

this the online home of author and journalist
Deepanjana Pal

 
 
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Blog
Cutty Snark: Manmarziyan and Amrita Pritam
Cutty Snark: Manmarziyan and Amrita Pritam

On Manmarziyan, Amrita Pritam and Amrita Pritam.

Beware of Word Salad
Beware of Word Salad

Nothing good ever came of salad, even word salad. Caution: a feminist was harmed in the reading of this.

Say a prayer
Say a prayer

Members of an NGO named Save the Indian Family performed last rites for “marital relations” and feminism. Aum swaha

VS Naipaul: August 17, 1932 - August 12, 2018
VS Naipaul: August 17, 1932 - August 12, 2018

Usually, RIP trips off the tongue when someone passes away, but I don’t want Sir Vidia to rest in peace.

Verbal Privilege
Verbal Privilege

“Poet, sister: words —
whether we like it or not —
stand in a time of their own.”

Here Lies The City of Dreams
Here Lies The City of Dreams

It’s 2.19am, it’s pounding with rain and the spirit of Mumbai is AWOL.

Freedom and Lust
Freedom and Lust

I really wanted to like Netflix’s Lust Stories. But no.

The Light Chronicles
The Light Chronicles

Reasons to keep your eyes open and your cameraphone handy.

The Abstract World of Ram Kumar, 1924-2018
The Abstract World of Ram Kumar, 1924-2018

What can you do with a couple of geometric shapes and a few lines? That's all Ram Kumar needed to turn the world abstract and upside down.

The Incomplete Works
The Incomplete Works

I wrote a novel.

 

snapshots

Been lusting after this book ever since I came across the title a few months ago. Thank you @panmacmillanindia. Also, don’t miss those fantastic postcards. 🔮
Balcony.
If you had to make an educated guess, would you say @irmalala likes chocolate?
💭
Golden. #Mumbai
Mumbai frames.
The clouds today are just magic.
 

short stories

"The satiny material of her burkha shone where it caught the sunlight. It stretched, dipped, billowed and moulded against her body because of the wind. The magnifying glass inched down her form, past the arc of her covered head, along the fluid lines of wind-puffed material. Hadpude didn’t blink. He just looked. His eyes travelled from head to toe, from photo to photo."

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