Articles by Divya Sreedharan

Some of the cards children have made for the carnival Sometime last year, five women were chatting over a cup of coffee. In the course of their conversation, the five (part of a moms' group because their children attend the same school), realised they shared similar beliefs--that they all believed passionately in making a difference to the lives of those less privileged. And that, to do this, they had to "become the change, they want to see". Now, this is a group of highly qualified and motivated professionals--there's a Chartered Accountant, an MBA, an interior designer, a corporate professional, and…

Some of the cards children have made for the carnival Sometime last year, five women were chatting over a cup of coffee. In the course of their conversation, the five (part of a moms' group because their children attend the same school), realised they shared similar beliefs--that they all believed passionately in making a difference to the lives of those less privileged. And that, to do this, they had to "become the change, they want to see". Now, this is a group of highly qualified and motivated professionals--there's a Chartered Accountant, an MBA, an interior designer, a corporate professional, and…

Missing: 95-year-old Shankar Prasad Mishra. My friend Preeti Mishra's 95-year-old grandfather,  whom she lovingly calls Nanu, is missing. He went missing from Babusapalya in Kalyanagar on August 25. Nanu or Shankar Prasad Mishra, is much more than a grandparent for Preeti. He is a fellow foodie, and her companion-in-fun. He is also her rock, her safe place. Preeti is an ardent Bangalorean, blogger and writer. I can only imagine what she and her family are going through right now. No, actually I can empathise, because it has happened to me too--when my father went missing three years ago. The worst…

Missing: 95-year-old Shankar Prasad Mishra. My friend Preeti Mishra's 95-year-old grandfather,  whom she lovingly calls Nanu, is missing. He went missing from Babusapalya in Kalyanagar on August 25. Nanu or Shankar Prasad Mishra, is much more than a grandparent for Preeti. He is a fellow foodie, and her companion-in-fun. He is also her rock, her safe place. Preeti is an ardent Bangalorean, blogger and writer. I can only imagine what she and her family are going through right now. No, actually I can empathise, because it has happened to me too--when my father went missing three years ago. The worst…

I grew up in a house by National Highway 17 in Kozhikode (Kerala) city. My days and nights were filled with sound--a maddening cacophony of cars, trucks, buses and auto rickshaws, people cursing, cussing, swerving. Noise, noise everywhere. Every day. Every hour. Except in our backyard, where there was (and still is) an old mango tree. This tree casts a benevolent shade over our red-tiled house. When I was a little girl, my father fixed a swing for me on one of its overhanging branches. The swing was just a little plank of wood with both ends strung up through…

I grew up in a house by National Highway 17 in Kozhikode (Kerala) city. My days and nights were filled with sound--a maddening cacophony of cars, trucks, buses and auto rickshaws, people cursing, cussing, swerving. Noise, noise everywhere. Every day. Every hour. Except in our backyard, where there was (and still is) an old mango tree. This tree casts a benevolent shade over our red-tiled house. When I was a little girl, my father fixed a swing for me on one of its overhanging branches. The swing was just a little plank of wood with both ends strung up through…

There's a road very close to my home, which thousands of commuters use every day. As roads go by, it is nothing special--not extra wide or four-laned or nicely tarred, even. It's just a linking road, a few hundred metres in length. A redeveloped slum dominates one end of it; at the other are some indistinguishable homes, a few small businesses and the local Bescom office. Pedestrians invariably have a tough time navigating this road, especially the part that goes past the slum. For there is always traffic whizzing past, children playing about, running helter skelter unmindful of the vehicles…

There's a road very close to my home, which thousands of commuters use every day. As roads go by, it is nothing special--not extra wide or four-laned or nicely tarred, even. It's just a linking road, a few hundred metres in length. A redeveloped slum dominates one end of it; at the other are some indistinguishable homes, a few small businesses and the local Bescom office. Pedestrians invariably have a tough time navigating this road, especially the part that goes past the slum. For there is always traffic whizzing past, children playing about, running helter skelter unmindful of the vehicles…

The sign says it all: An bungalow in the Cantonment area The quaint names, the tree-lined streets, the quiet roads and most important, the bungalows make the Cantonment area, a sure-shot target for real estate 'developers'. My husband and I moved here ten years ago because of this old world charm--we loved the serene areas in and around Cooke Town, the streets adjoining Mosque Road, the hidden gems around Richards Park. But now standalone homes, of every size, from stately bungalows to matchbox-shaped houses, are morphing into apartment buildings. And the end result is a sandwiched existence. Take Davis Road…

The sign says it all: An bungalow in the Cantonment area The quaint names, the tree-lined streets, the quiet roads and most important, the bungalows make the Cantonment area, a sure-shot target for real estate 'developers'. My husband and I moved here ten years ago because of this old world charm--we loved the serene areas in and around Cooke Town, the streets adjoining Mosque Road, the hidden gems around Richards Park. But now standalone homes, of every size, from stately bungalows to matchbox-shaped houses, are morphing into apartment buildings. And the end result is a sandwiched existence. Take Davis Road…