https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/chennai/file-that-could-solve-boses-death-mystery-closed-for-100-years/articleshow/61856208.cms

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Gandhian's 'vintage' collection

I had left my house for lodges a couple of times during my college days. Maybe this was because of my great fascination for old, stinky lodges with common toilets. I was also attracted by the mysterious presence of creatures like bedbugs, mosquitoes and cockroaches in the interiors of these ‘budget’ rooms. There was a sense of rhythm in our live-in relationship. The cockroaches were the most liberal, as they were occasional visitors. Once in a while, someone would perform a mid-night-walk over my body. I could even feel in my deep sleep the ‘hairy legs and antennae’ moving from one end of my body to the other. The action would last only for a couple of seconds. The mosquitoes attacked me only when they wanted food for thought. The bedbugs were the most dangerous. They were good mind-readers and they did this even in my deep sleep. Despite the disturbances, we shared an absolute tent of unity. A friend of mine had an interesting experience when he was staying at a rented house in
Read more

Silencer Boy

Image
“Don’t ever touch the silencer… It’s hot,” said the hippie uncle soon  after parking his brand new Royal Enfield  Bullet  on the street where  we played cricket. “It will burn your hands. Be careful.” With two  garlands, one tied around the headlight and the other on the rear  lamp, the  Bullet  had a dozen sandal-paste marks on its body. The potbellied uncle was never in a mood to leave the  Bullet , foreseeing  the possible harm I would have given to his new machine. So he checked  the vehicle a couple of times to ensure that it stood firmly on the  middle-stand. After walking a bit, he would return and stay close to  the  Bullet , adjusting the garland around its headlight. He wanted to  know whether I would approach his machine in his absence. The action  went on for almost half-an-hour, and finally the uncle gave up,  smiling at me. I could still feel the heat evaporating from the silencer as I stood  close by it. But what attracted me to it was a wide-angle image of my  fac
Read more

Hamara ‘Baa Jaaaj’…

Image
Thirty-five years ago, when my uncle bought a Bajaj Chetak scooter, many came to see it. “Please don’t apply front brake, the vehicle will skid, and you may fall,” said one. “Green is nice,” another one said, praising the colour of the scooter. “Can you handle it?,” an elderly couple asked my uncle, taking a dig at his short stature. He laughed and checked the orange colour indicator of the schooter, the way a child learns about digits. One, two, three, four… When he turned the switch on, the light blinked, like a melting orange chocolate. Soon, his wife, who is taller than him, came to the front yard. She was fond of scooters as her father had a Lambretta. Even though many raised comments, no one tried to read the name of the brand which manufactured the scooter. The aunt rose to the occasion, after looking at the scooter. “BAA … JAAAJ,” she whispered. A little boy who was standing near her heard this and he tried to correct her, Aunty, it’s Bajaj, not BAA JAAJ.” Aunt smiled;
Read more