Of Rain and Relief…

He disheveled everything she had neatly stacked up. He was running late for the office, yet again, and now searched for his ID card everywhere except where it actually was. He upended his backpack emptying all its contents atop the bed on her side. This sight filled inside of her with rage, more than the... Continue Reading →

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Of Music and Road Trip…

Three urchins cladded in dust guarded the gates of the famous Rama Temple located atop one of the many hills that adorn the town of Ramanagara. Their clothes lacked any signs of lustre, convincing the seer that it had been long since they were last washed, or changed. The three of them bore a welcoming... Continue Reading →

Love on a dead branch…

He felt like a bird on a dead branch. Only that he didn't crave for all the view that this absence of foliage now offered him. He needed obstructions, something in his sight preventing him from seeing her, something like a dense foliage from another branch. A few persons perhaps. But sometimes, he is now... Continue Reading →

Reader’s block and Sudha Murthy…

This is to all the readers who, at some point in time, end up losing their grip on life (and by life, I mean reading), and having lost their weapon then struggle to cope with the adversities in life. This is about how I regained my confidence in reading. But more importantly, this is a heartfelt gratitude towards a pre-eminent Indian philanthropist and writer - Mrs Sudha Murthy.

Sister, Songs, and Phone Calls…

This piece is very close to my heart, just like all my sisters. It has been lying in the drafts for over two months, for no particular reason. What makes it special are not the nuances of the words used, but the nuances of the story which will come out differently to each one of us. To all the sisters - whose smiles keep us moving and makes life bearable.

Of School and Spitoon…

This story, amidst other things, centres on the hopelessness of the entire process of growing up, and all the disappointment it brings along. As a child, I had always wanted to rid myself of the ritual called examinations. I achieved it at a high price - my childhood.

Indore, Food, and Robot’s Crotch…

I come from a place too remote to be located on the map without considerably zooming into it. I then, under this predicament, proudly pronounce myself as being from Indore when an outsider asks me of my origins. It is something common to all the people from smaller tehsils, now districts, in Madhya Pradesh. Indore is our haven. Bengaluru is love. Bengaluru is a beauty. But this article is not about love, not about Bengaluru.

Catharsis

Last few days taught many important lessons. One of which is to Love while the time is still ripe. This post is about gratitude.

Of Journeys and Pilgrimages…

This is as much of a piece on Hope and Courage as it is on what the title suggests. But, I believe, that the only way to overcome anything is by moving towards something, a place, a person, or even a void if one firmly believes in it.

Wait and Hope…

When abandoned by the books, every other thing turned into an act of waiting. Serendipitously, the title of the blog, as I recall it now, also happens to be Dumas' tour de forces' final advice.

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