Bhavani
Literature has always been a deep abiding passion. Thru college, I worked as a Kindergarten Teacher, Counsellor, Copywriter, and at 20, I was editing a film magazine.

 

Bhavani Iyer's Blog

  • 159
    Writer Provocateur
    There’s an artisan-like air to the image of a female writer. A certain fragility and an odd strength that the pen lends her, coarse suggestiveness of phallic symbolism aside. There is a delicateness about the female writer. Hearty broadstrokes are usually in rare supply. The writing doesn’t leave deep vigorous impressions on paper, it simply whirls around the page...
    by Bhavani Iyer at December 16th, 2007 at 11:12 am
  • 56
    In Their Shoes
    Parents, they never really leave us. They’re always there. In the book that lays face down, turned in the dust on the table. They watch over us. Replacing that rambling tree, its branches protectively splayed over your house. They still walk us and settle our playground squabbles. Like that blind mirror that sees it all but shows us only what we want to see. Their protective...
    by Bhavani Iyer at October 11th, 2007 at 10:10 pm
  • 71
    JOHNNY GADDAR — A Preview
    Evil is the ultimate ambiguity. When handled with insouciant dexterity, it can reach this delicious plateau that Simone Weil described as ‘the monotony of evil’, condemned to a false infinity. The world thus painted is so saturated with the mutating snowballing nature of evil that it becomes palpable and no one really needs to call it by name. And the ‘good’ man,...
    by Bhavani Iyer at September 24th, 2007 at 08:09 am
  • 113
    An Ode to Writing
    A thin black column of dazzle takes wing. As the first words form on the blank sheet of paper, I feel an incipient thrill. It’s that magical moment of realization of being in love. The beginning of every piece of writing recreates that affluent warmth, that heightened exhilaration. It’s a headlong freefall, no parachute, no safety net, just a blissful weightlessness....
    by Bhavani Iyer at August 16th, 2007 at 09:08 am
  • 38
    Unbelonging
    We boil at different degrees. But the bubbles are always there, beneath the surface calm. Waiting for the right temperature or the wrong provocation. My threshold varies. There are mornings when, like Kilgore, I love the smell of Napalm. I want to get blown up, teeter on that edge and fall off into a glorious abyss. And then there are days when I’m weaker than English...
    by Bhavani Iyer at July 30th, 2007 at 07:07 am
  • 41
    Portrait of a Critic The angle, it makes all the difference. Subtracting depth, magnifying dominance. I paraphrase, leading you through this maze. ‘I am the North, the South, the East, the West. The Monday week and the Sunday rest.’ Sharp, incisive like a rapier. Objects in my mirror are smaller than they appear. From up here, I rule the world. Sitting in judgment...
    by Bhavani Iyer at July 21st, 2007 at 11:07 am
  • 62
    White
    Considerning my lifelong quest for irony, there it is. ‘Black’ may (or may not) be beautiful (and I know I risk opening a frightening can of worms here), but white happens to be my favorite colour. Pristine. Unsullied. Receptive. Conjures beautiful images. Of clouds. The moon. Virginal doves and Yash Chopra heroines. A flag symbolising peace. But just now,...
    by Bhavani Iyer at July 14th, 2007 at 01:07 am
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