and so we stitch
what we unquestioningly believe
to be finery that elevates us
in the eyes
of the world.

we use yarn alright.
finest quality
mind-made yarns
that fool the self
before anybody else.

a running stitch here
running a loop around insecurity.
a backstitch there to highlight,
wait, did i say…

When you hold on to your anger,
You’re the one left naked,
Like you’ve left all your clothes on a hanger.

When you hold on to your greed,
You’re the one who is belittled,
Worse than a beggar in dire, dire need.

When you hold on to your desire,

(Originally written on 18 July, 2015)

Between Acts of God and being ravaged by nature, as a species we have created a convenient spectrum when it comes to “natural” causes of our passing. Extraordinary forces of wind, rain and atmospheric pressure. Beyond-normal heating up of the core of the planet…

(Originally written on a lazy weekend in July 2016)

Read this only if you want to do something pointless. No, really.

I’ve spent a glorious weekend doing things mindlessly.

As we went for our morning walk on Saturday, mostly in silence, my mind happily and steadfastly refused to latch on…

What is this damned thing?
What, I ask you, is this
Damned thing that intrudes
When I am watching,
Like 389 million 76 thousand 423 others,
An owl that laughs?
Why, tell me why,
I should give two hoots
For a flappable book?

What is this insidious thing?
What, I…

In early 2012, at the beginning of what would turn out to be a proper drubbing of a test series at the hands of Australia, I tried to put myself in Dhoni’s shoes. Not when he was sending helicopter dispatches all across cow corners or dispatching the opposite with a…

Vasantha Mami’s joy-filled voice rings in my ears even today.

“It’s not Deepavali until Narayan comes home to have idli at our place.”

Every time I talk to her even now, which is less frequently than I’d like, she never fails to remember this and say it to me.


Mahidar was…different.

I’ll tell you how.

So, in Class IX, we had a particularly acidic chemistry teacher. He had a splash of white just above his ample forehead-running-into-his-bald-head. I wouldn’t disbelieve it if you told me that came from some spluttering H2SO4 that he was being nasty to, which had…

“Vorai, Chembu!”

That, of course, was Mr. Chitti Babu, our P.T. Sir, yelling out to a boy whose name he had forgotten. But forgotten names never came in the way of Chitti Babu Sir’s calling upon someone that he had an errand for, alongside a pointing finger. His first recourse…

[I originally wrote this in late 2015, and except that this doesn’t have an updated list of catastrophes leading up to the present times, this feels as reflective of today as it did back then.]

I can’t even say that it haunts me. I mean, doesn’t something have to be…

narayan devanathan

Facts, fiction, and the occasional home truth in advertising. Marathoner. Group Executive & Strategy Officer, Dentsu India.

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