A Grandma extraordinaire…

Today, 16th of May, marks the first death anniversary of my Grandmother. The below words are to her and to all the grandmothers in the world who make this world a better place to be alive in.

Of Dreams and Love…

The clock in the hall room sprung to life, its speaker chimed four times, and then turned silent again, leaving the house tranquil. Arun was already up, struggling with his breaths. The post-monsoon season aggravated his sinusitis, and so he kept switching between the sides. Restive, he sat atop the bed for some time, adjusted...

Of Birth, Death, and Life…

Why, by the end, does everything turn into a source of pain? Arham is known by his colleagues as someone who dwells in the past. In his defence, he always asks them "well, who doesn't?" While everyone else is talking either about the future or their 'could have been' versions, he prefers to think of...

Of Men And Their Ways…

At dawn, when all the boys with whom he used to play cricket in the ground are still asleep, Balu is woken up by his senile father. The sixth child in his father's brigade, as the old man used to call his children together, Balu was the youngest. His two elder sisters were married and...

Of Making Babies and Driving Trains…

The coaches in the Indian passenger trains, despite all the discomfort they offer to its passengers, provide them with the facility to stop the train at their will. An act of reparation for something wrong that the train or the railway management has nothing to do with, for a predicament that has been created by...

Of Scaffold and the first steps…

Ramesh balanced himself on the scaffold - a temporary arrangement of sticks and ropes built around the naked and ugly building that he was to paint and transform into a beautiful house. The same building that he and a few others like him had worked on persistently and had erected in over a year. And...

Of Motions and Emotions…

His stomach rumbled the third time in what could not have been more than ten minutes, convincing him that he'd finally have to get up and make his way to the toilet. The digital clock mounted on the wall displayed some numbers, but at his age and in his predicament, the numbers no longer made...

Of Shehnai and Love…

His earliest memories of a Shehnai and its sound were from a mandap -- a platform raised temporarily for marriages and around which couples vow togetherness, their families surrounding them in all the directions, rejoicing in these avowals. He was 7 years old then and was seated on his mother's lap, deaf to what the...

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...

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.

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.

Fortitude, and the game of Eyes and Heart…

When faced with the situations demanding fortitude one must exhibit it, or pretend its possession. There isn't really anything else that remains at one's disposal in such situations.

Of Ghost, Night, and Tide…

This piece was born when I was scared. There was darkness all around and everything seemed daunting.

Love, Togetherness, and Time…

She would come on the balcony, her hair almost dried. Ruffling her hairs with the fingers of her left hand, in an attempt to drain the last drop of water that often sneaks through the strands of hairs and settle down as dew on the scalp, she’d then gather her hairs in her fist. For...

Congeniality of the living; company of the dead…

"We, in our final analysis, have to survive on our own. Seek congeniality in those who are living; for company, turn to the dead." These sheer simple words yet utterly profound, naive as a universal truth yet a conundrum like a complex code, kept reverberating in his ears. What did his brother mean by them?...

Happy Father’s Day!

Of the numerous memories that inundate me right now as I type this piece, all of which, I must say, being as vivid as they were when they first happened, what I miss the most are perhaps the piggybacks I used to have on my father's back, and the swings using the bed-sheets that he...

THE TIME, AND A FEW LESSONS.

Bits and fragments from numerous intermittent conversations I had with my Grandfather.

A DIMLY LIT ROOM WITH A RAY OF HOPE

Just like the way a girl never forgets her first kiss, a boy never forgets his first bike, a father never forgets his child’s first grip around his finger, and a mother never forgets to check on her child who stays away from her - I can never forget what happened in those few days...

Yearning for redemption

Yezad embarked on a journey that would certainly make his future bright. But, just like in the course of every journey one leaves many places behind, Yezad was leaving behind something that would haunt him for the rest of his life...