Wistful drops of dew gleam in dull sunshine Dressed in ochre hue Leaves in silence chime Autumn doesn't subdue Heartfelt springtime Fear bids adieu When our hands entwine What once were me and you are now yours and mine
Darkness
A resolute blackness has fallen outside. I've been watching a child munch on various kinds of chips for three hours now. The child has emptied several chip packets, two of them called Chinese Noodles and Chut Kure. Yes, Chut Kure, I kid you not. At sporadic intervals, a relative of the child has been throwing... Continue Reading →
The Zahir
People can be divided into two categories; too many times over. They can be divided into bad or good, believers or non-believers, white or black, men or women. But when all the venn diagrams of categorizations are exhausted we realise that no two people can be together in all categories at all times. For the... Continue Reading →
Changing Identities
I had a queer dream last night. While it was largely about going somewhere, I remember only a snippet of it. I had carved parabolic lines on dark-brown timber. Someone looked at the curve and said I shouldn't have used a free hand. And because now that they were curved, I should use a scale... Continue Reading →
Surprised much?
Recently, I was in Hyderabad. The first time in a new city is like a clean slate. What impression it casts on you is something you might take away for life. I loved how the non-intrusive city provided me with the anonymity that I was yearning for. Everywhere I went, people did not seem to... Continue Reading →
Only Time Will Tell?
I know that the bougainvillea are pink and they stand in small bouquets on brown branches like a life-sized present. I know that the road is dusty on either side of the tar and that the gravel rushes into my feet and stays there on my sandals. I know that, at times, even not watching... Continue Reading →
Just 4 lines…
Sometimes, someone pens a whole story, in just 4 lines. One of those fragments... ON RUPERT BROOKE A young Apollo, golden-haired, Stands dreaming on the verge of strife, Magnificently unprepared For the long littleness of life. -Frances Darwin Cornford
And The Sun Rises
When I step out of the house, it's almost dark. The world around me is still waking up to another day of the week. While I'm struggling out of bed, I always say to myself that I shall sleep in the bus. A few trodden minutes later, when I push myself out of the house... Continue Reading →
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