Of Dreams and Delirium…

I The ringing of the bicycle's bell was the first thing Shaman heard in the morning, the chirping of the birds came later. It had always been this way. Quite unlike what they showed in the Bollywood movies. He owed his acquaintance with the reel world to the 'screen on wheels'. An arrangement in which... Continue Reading →

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... Continue Reading →

Loneliness, Writing, and Habits…

A friend once told me that writing emanates out of loneliness. I didn't know what he meant by that. 'Of course', I said, 'you don't often see a writer in a football stadium typing with a foam finger on just like you don't see a team playing football inside the room'. He smirked and added,... Continue Reading →

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