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 →
He had moved out of the previous apartment when it had become impossible for him to touch anything in it without feeling her touch on his hand. And this, he came to learn, as is the case with most of the other things a man learns only with the passage of time, happened to a... 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 →
It was only when she roared did he first realise of the fury she contained within. Some people manage to hide their other selves for so long, and then surprise everyone around them when they finally reveal it. So calm had she been all the while they have had been together - a face that... Continue Reading →
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... 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.
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.
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.
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.
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... Continue Reading →
He knew that in wars like these, where one fought against one's own heart, one was always bound to lose. But these wars have to be fought nevertheless. All through one's life. He has seen everyone around him fighting against that one thing or one person they love the most, and eventually, the fight ends... Continue Reading →
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 →
Making people understand the significance of reading by making them read about it is as ironical as 'any anti technology website would be'- but then again I have no doubt in words' abilities.
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 →