In Conversation With Nadine – Part 2

This post is in response to a few questions asked by Nadine.

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In conversation with Nadine…

This article is in response to the Mystery Blogger Award and the questions asked by Nadine.

Of Sour Relationships and Dirty Tables…

There was something overwhelmingly disappointing about the movement of the sun that day, or perhaps it was the movement of the clouds, enshrouding the sun like a mother protecting her son from evil eyes. He stayed atop his bed, struggling with his breaths, taking turns between his sides, and this continued for long, for almost...

Of Rats and Awakened Conscience…

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....

Of Sun and Sinusitis…

The Sun played tricks like an unweaned child. Now sticking its face to the mother's breast and then turning with a jerk towards its father, as if filled, only to resume the feeding by turning back towards its mother the moment it sees his father extending his hand in its direction. An act of defiance...

Of a girl and a bird…

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...

Heart and its reasons…

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.

Of Sweat and Dogs’ barks…

Dogs, as they say, happen to be a man's best friend. This post is to the music that their (dogs') band produce all through the night.

Washing Machine and Life…

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.

Running into cockroaches…

Sad times lead to either dejection or hygiene. We just fail to extricate the most out of it. This post is to such times and to all the clandestine cockroaches.

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.

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.

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.

Writing, and Accepting the Rejections…

Acceptance. And once, he was advised by a friend to write on topics that would be well received. Accepted by all unanimously, or at least, be read. Of course, he knew of such topics, and above all of the importance of being accepted. He didn't blink while his friend did the talking. He listened intently...

Shadows and the diabolical lizard…

I never really understood what he meant when he talked about shadows. And he always talked about shadows. Like, a lot. Frankly speaking, it is not just about him or what he used to say. It has to be something with me. A foible. Like some people are bad with Physics, others with Maths. I...