In this age when “presentation is king”, curators and exhibition designers vie to mix cognac with chole-bhature, soufflé with sambar, ballet with Bharatanatyam and Malhar with M.F.

I have had a long-term romance with black and white. With all the naiveté (foolishness?) of youth, I was convinced that life and people were either black or white. But lessons along the way illuminated the vast areas of grey that populate life and people’s characters. And if black and white are two ends of the spectrum, then it is the grey that is the main river that flows in between.

The other day, watching a beautiful Odissi performance by Sharon Lowen triggered off a thought that what would classical Indian dance and theatre be without the Natyashastra?

There is something infectious about the New Year.

Gar firdaus bar rooh-e-zameen ast; Hameen asto, hameen asto, hameen ast…; If there be Paradise upon earth; It is here, it is here, it is here

I have often scoffed at photography as being second grade to art.

I simply love Bollywood for coining some of the most appropriate catch phases or stories that are so apt, that the brightest poets and litterateurs couldn’t have thought of a better w

They are both artists whose imagery is almost autobiographical.

Theatre traditions across the world have held masks in very high esteem, with a great deal of significance and emphasis being laid on delineating the identity of a character or highlighting his or her

I think it is perhaps it is too early to take an absolutely dispassionate view about M.F.