All the linked posts under this blog are an outcome of my observations about the things that often go unnoticed and the things that are often taken for granted.
What makes fear manifest itself in myriad mutations? The alarm in his mobile phone went off, disturbing the order that night had so laboriously built. He extended his arm, located the phone, felt the haptic key and used it to decide which side was to be kept up, and then as if by intuition, pressed... Continue Reading →
Here's something from an insider...
Something from a dear friend...
Thank you for penning this down Vera...
It has been eight years since Ronit had last seen Akshita. He is sitting in front of his Laptop, his eyes fixed on a particular photo from a series of photos of all the girls named Akshita. He hovers upon her profile picture but something prevents him from clicking on it. Entering her profile would... Continue Reading →
In her village, across the street where Sri used to live, lived Mr Naresh. Till she was thirteen, she had thought that his name was ‘Seth Ji’ for everyone around her used to call him that. It was only when a few Christian Nuns had begun to come to her village, to teach students like... Continue Reading →
From the sixth floor of his office, Saksham sees people, dragging themselves towards their office. Most of them dawdling, as if reluctant to enter the place. They seem to have forgotten the time when they had laboured to be given a chance to work there -- revision of the concepts, shortlisting of the resume, calls... Continue Reading →
Shubhadra had always found the summers strange. It seemed to change everyone around her. Her father left for his office before his usual fixed time, and her mother together with her grandmother finished their morning chores by 9 A.M. and that gave them all the more time to monitor her actions and point out all... Continue Reading →
The last time he had let anyone touch him, Tanishq was 27 and had nothing on his body. And after the session of the passionate lovemaking was over, it had begun to rain outside, and it had continued to rain like that for some time. He was sitting on his bed, wiping the sweat off... Continue Reading →
He always woke up before the sun shone, and it had been that way for as long as he can recall now. His wife, when she was alive, used to bicker with him for his early morning alarms. "In the morning the sound of your alarms going off, and during the day your mother with... Continue Reading →
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... Continue Reading →
It was a Sunday, and it was a melancholic voice that woke Samaksh up from his slumber. 'The kind of voice that he would have otherwise only tolerated if he were drunk' he told Pradhaan -- his colleague -- when they later met at the workplace. 'Who sings such songs in the morning, yaar?' he... Continue Reading →
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... Continue Reading →
The room was reeking when he returned from the office, and the moment he unlatched the front door, the smell reached to him like a gust of wind. He retched, and though his ribs ached nothing came out from inside. He had never vomited in his life, not even when he was an unweaned child.... Continue Reading →
The girl. If one were to capture a panoramic view from where she stood and saw the birds go about in their daily chores, three-fourths of the captured image would be filled up with tall multi-storeyed buildings, full of people, working inside them. The remaining quarter would show something that now resembles a hill. Atop... Continue Reading →
This blog has been written in sheer haste. Because misery, when given the slightest of time, has terrible habit of finding a vague substitute for it that we call hope.
I stared into my washing machine while the clothes were whirling inside it. What came out along with the washed clothes has been jotted down.
Last few days taught many important lessons. One of which is to Love while the time is still ripe. This post is about gratitude.
This blog took birth in the hospital and grew outside of it, much like us.
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.
This piece was born when I was scared. There was darkness all around and everything seemed daunting.
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.
