Life & Style

There is no denying that sports infrastructure has evolved rapidly in India over the last decade or so. “Sports in India has transformed from being ‘just sport’ to a mainstream activity, and the turning point for this was the arrival of the Indian Premier League (IPL) in 2008. It changed the economics, and audience dynamics. People experienced a novel format: high-energy, primetime, family entertainment. With this, the revenue models of sports infrastructure have expanded to include broadcast, hospitality, commercial boxes, events, concerts, and year-round use. This has therefore created a large demand for modern, flexible, spectator-friendly stadiums,” says Rajeev Trehan, senior associate architect, Architect Hafeez Contractor (AHC), a Mumbai-based architecture and urban design firm. Further, events like the Commonwealth Games and the conversations around an Olympic bid for India, have raised the bar. This has prompted architects to build to global standards while catering to accessibility, climate, mobility and legacy.

An Olympic-sized swimming pool is situated adjacent to the academic block.
| Photo Credit:
Vinay Panjwani

“As cities densify and wellness becomes an integral part of daily life, sports infrastructure is increasingly viewed not as an auxiliary amenity, but as an essential urban programme. In the Indian context, this evolution is further amplified by adaptive reuse opportunities where existing industrial or under-utilised structures are reimagined as active, social and inclusive environments,” says Mueen Haris, founder of Ds2 Architecture, a multi-disciplinary practice with offices in Bengaluru, Kochi, and Mangalore.

Comfort and accessibility

While a stadium is fundamentally for sport, it must also respond to spectator comfort, safety and experience. Aspects like sightlines, circulation, shelter, acoustics, and accessibility are non-negotiable. Further, planning for traffic, public transport, and pedestrian movement is critical. After all, a venue that seats 50,000-60,000 people can paralyse a neighbourhood if not properly integrated into the surrounding infrastructure. “Events like large concerts — for instance, the Coldplay concert that happened at the D.Y. Patil Stadium [in Navi Mumbai] in February 2025 — amplify this further. In places like Melbourne, stadiums connect seamlessly to universities, stations, and public spaces,” adds Trehan.

Designing a sports facility demands careful calibration between performance requirements and human experience. It is a constant balancing act.

Skating arena

“At the core are the athlete, the body and the sport and everything else is built around that. The geometry, clearances, surfaces and even the choice of materials follow from that understanding of movement and risk. The second layer is climate and comfort. In India, heat, glare, humidity and dust are as much ‘participants’ as players. Roofs, shading, ventilation, orientation and landscape are not cosmetic decisions — they directly affect performance, injury risk and whether spectators actually want to come back. Third is circulation and safety,” says Manish Gulati, founder and principal architect of MOFA Studio, a Delhi-based architecture, interiors, urban, and product design practice.

Gulati quips that what is equally important today is accessibility and inclusivity. A contemporary sports facility must work for women, children, seniors, para-athletes and first-time visitors with the same dignity as it does for elite players and VIPs. “Step-free access, safe edges, lighting, toilets, seating, signage — these are not add-ons, they are core design questions ,” adds Gulati.

“The focus [on sports facilities] has shifted to flexibility, inclusivity, sustainability, and usefulness. You can see these ideas clearly at the sports centre at Graphic Era Global School, Dehradun,” says Bakul Chandra, founder partner and mentor, Renascent Consultants. The project was inaugurated in October 2025 and is replete with glazed openings, recessed windows, and a clearly articulated double-height entrance ensuring abundant daylight and visual openness, creating a strong connection between learning spaces and the outdoors.

Badminton arena

A good sports facility doesn’t turn its back on the city. Case in point is the National Institute of Water Sports (NIWS) campus in Goa. Designed by MOFA studio, it is planned as a compact academic village for water-sports education. Inaugurated in 2024, key facilities include classrooms and seminar halls, offices, hostels, common areas, and an Olympic-size diving/training pool. All material has been sourced locally.

“Stone, aggregates, many finishes and fabrication inputs are drawn from the surrounding region. The result is a building that looks global in its language but is rooted in local economies, crafts and supply chains,” adds Gulati.

Here is a look at some trends:

Multipurpose venues

“Today, facilities must host concerts, cultural events, exhibitions, car launches, conventions — anything that activates the space commercially and socially. The sector now focuses on flexibility, year-round programming, and high-return infrastructure,” adds Trehan. So, designers are building in plazas, learning centres, gyms, community fields, and commercial programmes that keep the neighbourhood alive year-round. Elements like seating bowls that can shrink or expand, retractable stands, modular courts, hybrid turf and demountable training halls allow a single venue to host athletics one week, a concert the next and then local school tournaments.

Entrance lobby

For instance, Bengaluru’s Actfit Arena, designed by DS2 Architecture, is envisioned as a multi-layered recreational environment rather than a single-purpose sports complex. “The programme includes five Olympic-grade, badminton courts, a fully equipped gymnasium, table tennis facilities, dance and zumba studios, martial arts zones, a clinic and recuperation area, conference, spaces, and a cafeteria,” adds Haris.

Smart and data-rich

The ‘smart stadium’ is now the baseline expectation with technology woven into architecture. High-speed connectivity, 5G, sensor networks, digital wayfinding, etc are becoming important.

Mueen Haris

Net-zero and low-carbon thinking are no longer just ‘nice to have’. There is an increasing use of solar roofs, recycled and low-embodied-carbon materials, rainwater harvesting, on-site wastewater treatment, and highly efficient lighting and HVAC systems.

“In Actfit Arena, there is an intricate assemblage of reclaimed elements: bricks from the original workers’ quarters form court walls, MS purlins from the old roof support gallery seating, and repurposed timber, marble, fabric, and fixtures populate interiors with quiet consistency,” adds Haris.

Bakul Chandra

Given that high-performance training and recovery are critical, architects integrate sports science labs, data-enabled training surfaces, specialised rehab and recovery zones, apart from psychologically calm “back-of-house” spaces where athletes can focus.

Surfaces, lighting, acoustics, and even micro-climate are tuned to reduce injury and support the discipline and emotional arc of the sportsperson.

DY Patil Stadium as seen from the ground.
| Photo Credit:
Noshir Gobhai

Tier II cities

There is now heavy impetus on sports infrastructure development in Tier II cities due to initiatives like Khelo India, a national programme to improve India’s sporting culture at the grassroots level. IPL, of course, changed the economics, the audience and the ambition of Indian sport.

Once people experienced that format, other leagues like ISL and Pro Kabaddi followed. Cities like Puducherry, Nasik, Nagpur, Coimbatore, Bhopal and Guwahati are showing major development.

Manish Gulati

Thus, the best sports facilities are no longer monuments you visit once in a while — they are living infrastructure that athletes grow up in, communities identify with, and cities use as proof of their aspirations. “Sports projects sit at the intersection of performance, crowd behaviour, climate, security and emotion. The margins for error are tiny, but the impact is huge. That makes sports facilities one of the most challenging and meaningful typologies to work on today,” concludes Gulati.

The Bengaluru-based freelance writer is passionate about all things design, travel, food, art and culture.

I’ve never quite known where I stand on Valentine’s Day. Like most people who work in restaurants, I’ve spent more Valentine’s Days watching other people’s romances unfold than participating in my own. That has a way of shaping your views.

Valentine’s Day in a restaurant is a peculiar, faintly theatrical thing. On the surface, it’s about love, candles, soft lighting and a slightly different playlist. A set menu promising romance in three courses, plus a dessert you’re encouraged to share. Behind the scenes, it’s about margins, marketing gimmicks, creating FOMO and the comforting knowledge that truffle and a bubbly pink drink can magically add double digits to your bottom line.

Karan Gokani
| Photo Credit:
SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

As a chef and restaurateur, Valentine’s Day arrives with a familiar mix of cynicism, opportunism and anxiety. We start planning early. Not because we’re hopeless romantics, but because love, as it turns out, pays. Menus get rewritten. Tables inch closer together. Flowers appear where they normally wouldn’t. Candles burn with more commitment. Someone suggests something heart shaped, another shoots the idea down instantly. While quietly, we accept that truffle, chocolate and beetroot will be doing a lot of the heavy lifting.

How I’ve approached my menus, creatively, has changed over the years. During COVID-19, when romance felt both fragile and slightly absurd, a fish supplier and I sent people live crabs, still moving, along with the ingredients for a crab curry, to be cooked courageously at home on the day. It was dinner, with a side of bravado. Not for everyone. At the other end of the spectrum, I allowed pink hoppers to appear on our menu another year. Soft, blush, made for ripping and dipping into curries that keep the evening spicy long after dinner is done.

It’s fascinating how forgiving people become on Valentine’s Day. On most nights, diners are sharp. They notice seasoning. They debate value. On Valentine’s Day, the food just needs to be nice. Because people aren’t really there for the food. They’re there for the table. We are, quite literally, renting space.

Good Valentine’s menus, like good nights out, should comfort rather than challenge.

On the night, you see every version of love play out. The early dates sit unnaturally upright, phones placed face down as a gesture rather than a rule, eye contact held just long enough to feel intentional and compliments deployed generously.

The hopeless romantics lean fully into the theatre of it. Dressed up, champagne ordered early, pacing themselves in the hope that dessert might still change the outcome of the evening.

The long timers roll differently. Fewer words, shorter menu choices, shared looks that replace conversation, wondering whether this was a good idea or if pyjamas and the sofa might have been the smarter choice.

There are the new parents, tracking babysitters on their phones, while enjoying the rare luxury of being uninterrupted adults again. And finally, the jaded couples who insist they “don’t really do Valentine’s Day”, while leaning in, pink drink in hand, very much doing the Day.

After years of watching it all unfold, I’ve come to admit something. For all its corniness, the day still works. Valentine’s, and nights like it, are reminders that tables are where relationships are rehearsed and repaired. Where we listen. Where we wait. Where we compromise, over spice levels, dessert choices, or who gets the last bite.

In the end, whether it’s Valentine’s Day or any other meal dressed up as something more, it’s rarely about getting it exactly right. It’s about showing up, making an effort, and staying for dessert. Truffle optional.

Karan Gokani is a London-based chef and restaurateur who spends his time cooking, travelling and exploring what the world is eating. He loves the gym, biriyani and his frying pan. Not necessarily in that order.

Published – February 13, 2026 05:14 pm IST

Samarpan by Bhabatosh Sutar, Mass Art
| Photo Credit: Mass Art

Bronte Parsonage Museum
| Photo Credit: Bevan Cockerill

I am often hesitant to say I love the colour red. Being a Malayali, many joke that it reveals my (non-existent) Communist leanings. Being dark skinned, others warn me to skip it in my wardrobe. But for me it’s the colour of manjadikuru, the lucky red seeds I used to collect in my grandmother’s overgrown backyard in Alappuzha. Of piping hot red matta rice that my mother would serve every visit home.

And now, thanks to Asian Paints’ A Story in Red, perhaps of my (next) living room ceiling? The immersive multi-room exhibit at Bafna House in Fort Kochi has certainly given me options: scarlet, fig shell, Bordeaux burgundy, otter brown, and a stunning fuchsia.

Curated by interior stylist and textile aficionado Ranji Kelekar, the site-specific experience has been put together with the intent to showcase the potential a colour can have to move between forms and textures, to travel across cultures and communities, and even to “perform”. As Amit Syngle, MD and CEO of Asian Paints, puts it, red is “rooted in craft, design and ritual — in the protests of Kerala, the auspiciousness of festivals in Tamil Nadu and West Bengal”, the bangles clinking on wrists across India. “It has a certain kind of storytelling that merges seamlessly with the installations at the [Bafna] house,” he says, “the interplay of light, form and pigment coming together to give the space and its objects multidimensionality.”

Blown glass to Parsi slippers

A bunch of coconuts painted red hang from the verandah of the quiet Kochi residence on Tower Road. Behind it is a mural by five young Kerala artists: Harisankar Muraleedharan, Athul P., John Martin, Affin Anu Singh, and Sudharsana B. Shenoy. Titled Dhesham, it picks out vignettes of their lives in dark red.

As you walk in, the scene shifts to Goa, with a stunning okmus displayed at the entrance. Kelekar shares that designer Savio Jon created the ceremonial red and white robe (worn by pallbearers in the Procession of Saints during Lent) with satin, velvet and lace, and a pussybow at the collar, specially for the event. Next come the trio of rooms where the full “story” unfolds, cocooned by Asian Paints Royale’s red repertoire — in bold stripes on the walls and chevron-esque patterns on the ceiling.

Savio Jon’s okmus, with satin, velvet and lace

A 100-year-old gharchola from Kelekar’s personal collection catches the light. Traditionally worn by brides, a symbol of fertility and stability, each yellow dot on the sari, he says, is individually knotted around a mustard seed and dyed. Elsewhere, there is an installation of handblown glass bangles from Rajasthan (with roots that can be traced back to Czechoslovakia); pairs of Parsi bedroom slippers in red velvet strewn on a reed mat; and Four Poy by interior architect Kunal Shah, a contemporary take on the ubiquitous charpai — its frame painted red, and its weave detailed in black and white.

Red velvet Parsi slippers

Designer Smriti Morarka’s custom-woven tapestry, Aarambh, from her weaving initiative Tantuvi, takes up a wall, the gold zari in its central sun motif and intricate temple border offering a striking contrast. And because it’s Kochi, there’s an uruli filled with local matta ari (red rice) beside a large bunch of kadali pazham (red banana often offered to deities). “Red is in your day-to-day existence. If you build a home, the bricks are red. If you grow a garden, the mud is red. You wear red for your wedding; Christmas and pujo are full of red,” shares Kelekar. “It may sound cliché, but red has a feeling of home for me.”

Smriti Morarka’s custom-woven tapestry, Aarambh

Playing with duality

As the story nears its finish, it ventures outside India. “The curation isn’t forced,” says Kelekar. It grew organically through conversations with friends, browsing personal collections, and “just dunking a house in red” and seeing what would come from it.

For instance, he says, “I visited my friend Sonal Chowdhary at her [Goa-based gallery] Whalesong, and saw this beautiful furisode [a formal kimono worn by unmarried girls in Japan]. And I said I’m taking it.” It is mounted at the Kochi house with its distinctive long sleeves stretched out.

Then there’s a kalamkari tapestry of Iranian origin (late 19th-early 20th century) featuring a ruler and his red-coated soldiers in conversation around a bowl full of ripe pomegranates, which Kelekar found in a Parisian market. Interestingly, its twin was auctioned by Christie’s in 2016 for £4,000 (approx. ₹4.9 lakh).

Turns out, several colours were bandied about in the initial phases, including indigo and ochre, but the duality of red won. And in the Chinese year of the Fire Horse, the fiery shade holds even more meaning. It is warmth and energy, but also caution and control, used to signal boundaries and regulate movement. In the midst of a performance-forward Kochi-Muziris Biennale (KMB), this ‘performative’ colour fits right in.

An eight-minute walk from Aspinwall House, the main KMB venue, A Story in Red, is on till February 15. Entry is free.

The writer was at Bafna House on invitation.

Published – February 13, 2026 10:52 am IST

On a recent Saturday afternoon, the hum at Veux Café carried more than the usual clatter of cups. A long wooden table had been claimed by a dozen strangers leaning over sheets of handmade paper, arranging delicate bougainvillea petals and fern leaves into quiet compositions. There was no instructor with a microphone and no rush to finish. For nearly three hours, conversation drifted between colour palettes and childhood memories while hands worked patiently through the craft of pressed flower art. The theme was Gallentine’s Day, yet the mood felt less themed and more attentive.

The gathering was organised by Strings Community, a collective started four months ago by Hersh Jain and Sai Vamsi Malyakula. Hersh, who works in financial investments, felt the city offered dining and cinema experiences but had few spaces for measured recreation. He and Sai wanted to assemble small groups where people could participate in quality experiences.

Participants at Strings community in Visakhapatnam. 
| Photo Credit:
SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

“We prefer to keep our sessions around three hours because art loses meaning when it is hurried,” Jain explains. “People understand a medium more deeply when they sit with it. The aim is to create settings where conversation unfolds naturally and where the work on the table becomes a shared language.”

Earlier workshops included clay trinket making at Babi Cha Cafe near RK Beach. Jain notes that the attendance reflected a balanced mix of men and women. “It reassured us that the interest is not confined to a single demographic. There is curiosity across the board.”

Such curiosity appears to be shaping a quiet shift across the city. Beaches, public parks and independent cafes are increasingly doubling as informal cultural centres on Saturdays and Sundays. Instead of defaulting to malls, a segment of residents is gravitating towards activity-led gatherings that promise interaction without overwhelming.

Communize Vizag event in Visakhapatnam.
| Photo Credit:
SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

Communize Vizag represents the more expansive end of this development. Founded six months ago by data analyst Roshan Polamarasetty and a group of associates, the platform now hosts around 20 clubs ranging from book discussions and trekking to Formula 1 enthusiasts and art sessions. Finance and startup conversations are expected to join the roster soon. By mid-February, the collective will have completed 45 events.

Before launching, Roshan says, the team conducted a survey to identify what the city lacked. “We realised that people were searching for spaces where they could engage with others beyond transactional exchanges. The options were limited. That insight encouraged us to organise interest-specific clubs so that people could find others who cared about the same subjects.”

The response to the Formula 1 club surprised even the organisers. “More than 70 individuals signed up to be part of that circle. None of them were personal acquaintances. They found us independently. That confirmed that there was demand for structure.”

On February 14, Communize Vizag is hosting a paint-themed gathering at Cheroney Café around the ideas of Valentine’s and Galentine’s Day. The event follows the group’s activity calendar that includes treks and reading sessions.

Komal Bagrodia Saraf at her Vizag Coffee Club in Visakhapatnam.
| Photo Credit:
SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

For Komal Bagrodia Saraf, the shift carries a personal dimension. She moved to Visakhapatnam from Rajasthan two years ago after her marriage and found herself navigating an unfamiliar social terrain without extended family nearby. Vizag Coffee Club began as an attempt to address her own isolation. Since then, she has organised paint-and-coffee mornings, pickleball meetups and a vision board workshop.

“It is remarkable to watch strangers arrive hesitantly and leave as acquaintances,” she says. “At one session, someone spoke about wanting to become a disc jockey at 60. The room responded with encouragement rather than amusement. Age seemed irrelevant in that moment. These meetings allow people to articulate aspirations they might otherwise keep private.”

Her next event, scheduled at Zoro Café, combines games with a gift exchange for Galentine’s Day. The emphasis, she notes, rests less on celebration and more on participation. “People are not just attending an activity. They are investing in a shared experience.”

Art Social Vizag’s sari picnic event at VMRDA Park in Visakhapatnam.
| Photo Credit:
SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

Public parks, too, are assuming new roles. Art Social Vizag, started by IT professional Kiranmai Srinija and her sister Bhargavi, began as a way to reconnect with their own artistic inclinations. Years ago, the sisters supplied handmade greeting cards to local stores such as Archies Gallery and Darling’s Paradise. In January, they conducted a reusable rangoli mat workshop for children. One of their most discussed events, however, unfolded at VMRDA Park as a saree art picnic.

A girl engrossed in art work at Art Social Vizag’s event in Visakhapatnam.
| Photo Credit:
SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

Participants arrived draped in sarees and settled onto mats beneath the trees for a session on nature journaling and flower hammering using high GSM paper. “The park altered the atmosphere entirely,” Kiranmai reflects. “Working outdoors introduced a certain attentiveness. The setting encouraged participants to observe rather than merely produce. It remains one of my favourite sessions.”

Cost remains a careful consideration. Organisers acknowledge that Visakhapatnam is sensitive to pricing, and most workshops are designed to remain accessible. “The intention is to cultivate networking and skill-building without making it prohibitive,” Kiranmai says. Art Social Vizag’s upcoming Valentine’s Day event will take place at Brew n Cue Café, continuing the pattern of cafés functioning as collaborative arenas.

(Reach out to the groups at their Instagram handles @strings_community, @communize.vizag, @komal_bagrodia and @artsocialvizag).

Published – February 13, 2026 10:24 am IST

A love story that began in the early 1970s and has endured the test of time. H Anarkali, an associate professor and school principal, met her husband, S Balasubramanian, a school administrator, during college through a mutual friend. What started as a friendship soon grew into a relationship that faced many oppositions.

While recollecting her best moments, she remembers how often they met and found comfort in each other’s company. “I don’t know why I liked him back then,” she laughs. “One day, I decided to share my feelings and propose my love to him. Nowadays, people plan different creative proposals with rings and surprises. Back then, we just spoke from the heart.”

Balasubramanian felt the same way. “We never let our religious differences hold us back because our love goes beyond that.” He explains, “We had a long-distance relationship. I often skipped classes and travelled to Madurai just to see her. Those regular meetings helped our relationship grow. Before video calls, letters were the only way to communicate.”

S Balasubramanian firmly holding his wife H Anarkali’s hand and recalling his 54 years of love life.
| Photo Credit:
R. ASHOK

Anarkali shares, “Those days, I loved to write more letters for him… The excitement I felt when receiving a letter from the postman was beyond words. Waiting for replies only made that excitement stronger.”

She also recalls the day he told her father about their relationship, even though he wasn’t ready to accept them. “We faced many difficulties after that. Amidst all the struggles, we registered our marriage in 1978, a time when inter-religious marriages faced challenges. Despite the tough times, we supported each other then and continue to do so now.”

Balasubramanian believes today’s younger generation is more aware and confident when making choices about their future. “They know what they want,” he says, adding that parents should support and guide them in their relationships.

M. Christopher Gnanaraj, with his wife D. Evelin Ponmalar, cherishing his school days’ love memories in Madurai.
| Photo Credit:
R. ASHOK

In the 1980s, another love story unfolded between neighbours during school days. M Christopher Gnanaraj, the director of Rise Advertising, first met his wife, D Evelin Ponmalar, proprietor of Eveline homefoods and catering, Eveline Boutique who was his neighbour.

Ponmalar remembers a special time in their community when they celebrated with small gatherings where neighbours came together for various activities. “One evening, a young boy walked onto the stage, took the mic, and began singing ‘Raja Raja Chozhan Naan…’. His voice filled the air, and in that moment, he won everyone’s heart — especially mine. I still can’t forget that day; this is what they call love at first sight.”

Looking back on she says, “I was in head over heels and shared my the feelings with him. That single ‘yes’ marked the start of our journey together, leading to a life filled with a lasting happiness.”

Christopher says, “When we first moved into that quarter, I already liked her. When she proposed to me, I didn’t hesitate and immediately said yes.”

M Christopher Gnanaraj, with his wife D Evelin Ponmalar, cherishing his school days’ love memories in Madurai.
| Photo Credit:
R. ASHOK

He explains that they gradually bonded. “During our school days, we shared letters, gifts, and greeting cards through friends. There were no mobile phones or messaging apps back then. Greeting cards carried our emotions,” he says. “Today, feelings are shared through emojis on social media, but giving someone a card with our true feelings written in it is a different experience. We still keep those cards and small gifts; they hold special memories for us.”

He adds that telephones became common much later and were not present in most homes. “Calls were few and far between those days and it was used only for important matters. But we had telephone booths on every corner, which the current generation may not recognise. In the evenings, when she wanted to reach me but feared someone else might answer, she would give two missed calls as a signal. I would notice and call back at the right time; those little memories are precious to us.”

Christopher believes the bond they share now reflects the same strength they had earlier in their relationship — support and care for each other. “We may have arguments and misunderstandings, but it’s important to be patient and focus on finding solutions.. That’s essential in a relationship, and many people lack it today.”

When love was written, not typed, it needed time and care. In the era of letters, cards, and missed calls, emotions were preserved and not deleted. These couples show how love, once thoughtfully expressed, can last a lifetime.

Published – February 13, 2026 12:09 am IST

Ramzan announces itself quietly. Not only through fasting or prayer, but through kitchens, both domestic and devotional, where waste is avoided and food is prepared with a heightened sense of purpose.

Across the Islamic world, from Istanbul to Sylhet, Fez to London, Kashmir to Kayalpattinam, Ramzan cooking has always held a careful balance: fasting and feasting, restraint and generosity. Some of the most thoughtful writing on Muslim food reflects this inwardness, offering recipes shaped by memory, ethics, and care.

One of the most moving explorations of this philosophy is Turkish food scholar Nevin Halici’s Sufi Cuisine. Rooted in Konya, the city of Rumi and the Mevlevi order, the book treats cooking as a spiritual act. “For the Sufis, food was sacred, cooking was a form of prayer, and eating was a blessed activity,” Halici explains. The kitchen, she says, held the soul of the Sufi lodge. Initiation into spiritual life often began not with scripture, but by learning to cook and serve others.

Turkish food scholar Nevin Halici
| Photo Credit:
Wiki Commons

The book is suffused with poetry and restraint highlighting grain stews, yoghurt soups, and the ritual dish ashura, cooked communally during periods of mourning. “Nutrition is important in Sufi cuisine because worship is possible only in wellness,” Halici notes, adding that moderation and sharing are as central as flavour. It is a way of thinking about food that resonates deeply during Ramzan, when restraint itself becomes a form of mindfulness.

Moderation and sharing are as central as flavour during the holy month of Ramzan.
| Photo Credit:
Getty Images

Cooking as anchor

If Sufi cuisine turns inward, the James Beard award-winning cookbook, Feast: Food of the Islamic World, by Anissa Helou looks outward. One of the most comprehensive works on Muslim food cultures, Feast spans geographies, from North Africa and the Levant to Central and Southeast Asia. Helou writes with the authority of a scholar and the clarity of a teacher, showing how Islamic cuisines evolved through trade routes, migration and empire. Her food — soups, breads, lentils, slow-cooked stews — is rarely showy, but it reflects the everyday nourishment that sustains long fasting days across cultures.

From Morocco comes a more personal, fiercely contemporary voice. Chef Najat Kaanache’s Najat is part memoir, part culinary manifesto. Born to Moroccan parents and trained in some of the world’s most celebrated kitchens, Kaanache returned to Fez to open Nur, a restaurant rooted in Moroccan tradition but unafraid of modern expression. “Food is history, culture, geography,” she says. “Food is also politics.” For her, a chakcouka made with eggs, tofu, and tomatoes “makes for a comforting dish”. During Ramzan, such humble, deeply sustaining food feels especially resonant.

Ramzan food writing in Britain has also been shaped by migration and memory. In the gorgeously produced Rooza, Nadiya Hussain lists Ramzan specialities across the globe but spotlights her Bangladeshi roots with warmth and accessibility. “As a child of immigrants, I never understood the importance of the food my grandparents and parents left behind,” Hussain reflects. “Now I see how food connects us to our heritage.”

The book moves gently through Ramzan and Eid, offering khichuri, bhortas and sweets, not as nostalgia but as lived practice. Hussain speaks often about balance: “Life will always be busy, but it’s about making time to cook slow, or cook fast, without ever compromising on flavour.”

That sensibility is echoed in the work of Dina Begum, whose Made in Bangladesh foregrounds East Bengali cuisine with simplicity and care. For Begum, festive meals are nourishing plates like khichuri with chana bhuna, light dals, vegetable bhortas. She often returns to the idea of food as comfort for immigrant communities, where markets and everyday home cooking become anchors, especially during Ramzan, connecting families to memory and wellbeing.

A page from Dina Begum’s cookbook Made in Bangladesh. 

Season of stories

Books like Yasmin Khan’s Zaitoun: Recipes and Stories from the Palestinian Kitchen remind us that Ramzan food is also about endurance. Olive oil, lentils, flatbreads and citrus anchor recipes to land, season and survival.

In India, Muslim culinary history has long been preserved through scholarship and home kitchens. Salma Husain’s Alwan-e-Nemat: A Journey Through Jahangir’s Kitchen opens a window into Mughal court cuisine through a 16th century manuscript. While the recipes speak of royal tables, Husain situates them within broader histories of Persian influence, technique and taste that continue to shape Ramzan cooking in North Indian homes.

A baker with freshly made flatbread in Kashmir.
| Photo Credit:
Getty Images

From Kashmir, Maryam H. Reshii documents ceremonial and everyday Muslim food shaped by season, geography and collective labour, while chef and writer Sadaf Hussain chronicles Awadhi cuisine with a practitioner’s eye. His slow-cooked qormas, breads and lentil dishes reflect the discipline of fasting as meals that balance rather than offer spectacle. Further south, Ravuthar Recipes: With a Pinch of Love by Hazeena Seyad evokes Ramzan feasting with abandon and joy from Tamil Nadu.

Food becomes a moral language during Ramzan. It is also a season of stories shared over warm bread and passed bowls, and in the company of these books that show us the table as a place of memory, restraint and gratitude.

The writer is the author of Temple Tales and translator of Hungry Humans.

Published – February 13, 2026 07:46 am IST

A love story that began in the early 1970s and has endured the test of time. H Anarkali, an associate professor and school principal, met her husband, S Balasubramanian, a school administrator, during college through a mutual friend. What started as a friendship soon grew into a relationship that faced many oppositions.

While recollecting her best moments, she remembers how often they met and found comfort in each other’s company. “I don’t know why I liked him back then,” she laughs. “One day, I decided to share my feelings and propose my love to him. Nowadays, people plan different creative proposals with rings and surprises. Back then, we just spoke from the heart.”

Balasubramanian felt the same way. “We never let our religious differences hold us back because our love goes beyond that.” He explains, “We had a long-distance relationship. I often skipped classes and travelled to Madurai just to see her. Those regular meetings helped our relationship grow. Before video calls, letters were the only way to communicate.”

S Balasubramanian firmly holding his wife H Anarkali’s hand and recalling his 54 years of love life.
| Photo Credit:
R. ASHOK

Anarkali shares, “Those days, I loved to write more letters for him… The excitement I felt when receiving a letter from the postman was beyond words. Waiting for replies only made that excitement stronger.”

She also recalls the day he told her father about their relationship, even though he wasn’t ready to accept them. “We faced many difficulties after that. Amidst all the struggles, we registered our marriage in 1978, a time when inter-religious marriages faced challenges. Despite the tough times, we supported each other then and continue to do so now.”

Balasubramanian believes today’s younger generation is more aware and confident when making choices about their future. “They know what they want,” he says, adding that parents should support and guide them in their relationships.

M. Christopher Gnanaraj, with his wife D. Evelin Ponmalar, cherishing his school days’ love memories in Madurai.
| Photo Credit:
R. ASHOK

In the 1980s, another love story unfolded between neighbours during school days. M Christopher Gnanaraj, the director of Rise Advertising, first met his wife, D Evelin Ponmalar, proprietor of Eveline homefoods and catering, Eveline Boutique who was his neighbour.

Ponmalar remembers a special time in their community when they celebrated with small gatherings where neighbours came together for various activities. “One evening, a young boy walked onto the stage, took the mic, and began singing ‘Raja Raja Chozhan Naan…’. His voice filled the air, and in that moment, he won everyone’s heart — especially mine. I still can’t forget that day; this is what they call love at first sight.”

Looking back on she says, “I was in head over heels and shared my the feelings with him. That single ‘yes’ marked the start of our journey together, leading to a life filled with a lasting happiness.”

Christopher says, “When we first moved into that quarter, I already liked her. When she proposed to me, I didn’t hesitate and immediately said yes.”

M Christopher Gnanaraj, with his wife D Evelin Ponmalar, cherishing his school days’ love memories in Madurai.
| Photo Credit:
R. ASHOK

He explains that they gradually bonded. “During our school days, we shared letters, gifts, and greeting cards through friends. There were no mobile phones or messaging apps back then. Greeting cards carried our emotions,” he says. “Today, feelings are shared through emojis on social media, but giving someone a card with our true feelings written in it is a different experience. We still keep those cards and small gifts; they hold special memories for us.”

He adds that telephones became common much later and were not present in most homes. “Calls were few and far between those days and it was used only for important matters. But we had telephone booths on every corner, which the current generation may not recognise. In the evenings, when she wanted to reach me but feared someone else might answer, she would give two missed calls as a signal. I would notice and call back at the right time; those little memories are precious to us.”

Christopher believes the bond they share now reflects the same strength they had earlier in their relationship — support and care for each other. “We may have arguments and misunderstandings, but it’s important to be patient and focus on finding solutions.. That’s essential in a relationship, and many people lack it today.”

When love was written, not typed, it needed time and care. In the era of letters, cards, and missed calls, emotions were preserved and not deleted. These couples show how love, once thoughtfully expressed, can last a lifetime.

Published – February 13, 2026 12:09 am IST

Selling wall posters might sound more like a hobby than a business idea. Ajnas S, Anandakrishnan and Adhilsha S, however, think differently. Cool wall posters designed by these friends now find a place at most of the art and cultural festivals, flea markets and exhibitions happening in Thiruvananthapuram.

Movie titles and scenes, sports personalities, anime characters, automobiles, political figures etc find a place in these posters. Besides offline sale, you can place orders on their Instagram page, Urban Posters (@urban._posters).

They were introduced to the idea a few years ago when the Kerala University Arts Festival was held in Thiruvananthapuram. “We were students of University College then and had put up a stall at the festival venue to sell Ajnas’ sketches,” says Anandakrishnan. That was when some of our seniors approached us asking if they could sell their wall posters with the sketches and we agreed.”

The seniors left after a day leaving the posters behind. “After the festival, we put those posters and sketches for sale by the roadside. We made some money,” says Anandakrishnan.

(From left) Adhilsha S, Anandakrishnan and Ajnas S
| Photo Credit:
Nirmal Harindran

After college, Anandakrishnan and Adilshah did a course in designing while Ajnas joined the College of Fine Arts, Thiruvananthapuram. “We started making posters. The breakthrough was when we got a stall at Harfest, a 10-day carnival held at Kanakakunnu in 2024. There were many takers for the posters and sketches,” he adds.

The business came in handy when Ajnas, a travel enthusiast, decided to walk from Kanyakumari to Kashmir. “We sold the posters to raise funds for the trip although he had to discontinue it due to a leg injury,” Anandakrishnan says.

Posters kept for sale during the IFFK
| Photo Credit:
SREEJITH R KUMAR

The same year the three were able to put up a stall at the International Film Festival of Kerala (IFFK) 2024. “That was a huge opportunity. We connected with a lot of people and got more orders. We were also contacted to do wall art at homes, institutions and streets,” says Ajnas. They sold the posters at last year’s edition of IFFK as well.

The trio says they finalise a design depending on where they are putting up the stalls. “For example, there is a separate crowd for posters with cars whereas cinema is a favourite at some venues. The younger crowd mostly goes for automobile-related stuff,” says Adhilshah, a national-level frisbee player, who is also preparing for public service examinations with Anandakrishnan.

For film posters, which cover works in Malayalam, Tamil, Hindi and English, they usually play with key aspects or certain characters of that movie. A best-seller has been the one on the Padmarajan’s classic love story Thoovanathumbikal, starring Mohanlal and Sumalatha.

Other popular posters include the ones based on Devasuram, titled Gangs of Mangalassery, featuring Mohanlal as the feudal lord Mangalassery Neelakandan flanked by his aides and the Kumbalangi Nights inspired one highlights the four brothers, titled Brotherhood. Also on the list are posters focussing on characters from Mayaanadhi, Bangalore Days, Annayum Rasoolum, OK Kanmani, Rockstar, Premam etc.

Wall posters by Urban Posters kept for sale
| Photo Credit:
SPECIAL AARANGEMENT

Some of the posters celebrate known names from films, politics, literature, sports, and art, including Vaikom Muhammed Basheer, VS Achuthanandan, Che Guevara, Virat Kohli and Messi.

It is the glossy finish of the prints that attracts buyers. “That is because we don’t compromise on the quality of the paper,” Ajnas says.

The prices start from ₹10 (for the mini posters that look like polaroids) and go up to ₹150, which is for split posters, (a huge poster divided into three), that mostly features cars.

“We now earn enough to meet our needs, especially to cover the expenses for our studies and other daily expenditures. We are able to give a small amount to our homes as well,” says the trio.

The posters will be on sale at Tricult, a three-day cultural carnival at Trivandrum Golf Club, Kowdiar, which begins at 3pm on February 13. Timings are from 11am to 10pm on February 14 and 15 Tickets on @tricult.festival.

Published – February 12, 2026 10:40 pm IST