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.
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 →
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 →
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 →
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 →
Questions. Some days are filled with questions. There is a single question at the core but there are numerous around it. Surrounding it as its paraphernalia. The ones capable of fusing the nights and day into one or making either incomprehensible to you. You wake up, there is the sun, as usual. You know it... Continue Reading →
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... Continue Reading →
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... Continue Reading →
