Why do I write

‘And…why should we write?’ You asked me in that endearing manner of yours in which you casually looked for the lighter you somehow misplaced earlier to light a smoke. ‘How else should I let my angst out?’ I answered in the quietest way possible, suppressing my frustration at being asked a question as silly as-…

Evening Musings: A Personal Blog

I go for walks every day. Long solo walks in the evening when the sky is mellow, preparing for nightfall, children prancing about in the park; their jubilant screams when the swings go up in the air charge up the atmosphere around me. I look forward to this time of the day. This activity has…

When nostalgia hits

That night, in my dream, I found myself back in school, strolling around the old abandoned wing of the huge complex where the early years of my life, the precious moments of my teenage were still safely tucked away in the cracks of the crumbling walls now partially encroached by an ancient banyan tree. Its hanging roots cried out my name.

Dog Mama- a personal blog

As soon as they spot her vehicle on the street, these furry babies wiggle their butt and wag their tail in excitement.

Kadambari

The feeling of alienation, which a woman from a poor family would often experience in a house full of wealthy and excessively proud aristocrats. Kadam quietly endured the snide remarks of her older sisters-in-law, who would often make fun of her poor father who was unable to arrange for a handsome dowry at the time of her wedding. But Rabi was different. Unlike the other members of the family, this budding poet wasn’t pretentious. She became his literary muse.

Two women

Two women Reena and Rosie are writers. Both are word miners who dream to paint their worlds with words. Rosie is young and her writing style, akin to her vivacious persona, is full of hope. Her optimistic eyes envision a world that is filled with beauty and magnanimity. She lives in a big city, alone,…

Santa Claus is coming to town

Little Roni stayed up all night waiting for Santa. Despite her parents’ affection-filled entreaties, the girl refused to go to her room and sat up by the Christmas tree in the hope of welcoming the portly man when he slides down the chimney at night. Last year, she was pretty upset with the gift she’d…

The Bartender

“He smelled like the ocean!” “Ridiculous! How’s that even possible?” “Trust me. Whenever he’d sit there on the barstool, I’d this strange sensation that the sea was closer. Like the hidden treasures in an ocean, there were stories buried in his heart. His gaze was warm like the sea air. I am sure there was…

The Autumn Girl

Her autumn mornings always began with a strange ritual. She’d cup her hands, scoop some water from the washbowl and wash her face; then run her wet fingers through her silken hair until water dripped from every strand. Later, she’d gleefully walk out of the house and feel the cold misty air on her moist…

Diminishing hopes

He gently squeezed her thin wrinkly hand from across the table.Her gaze wandered away from his face to some insignificant object in the distance.A lump formed in his throat as he saw her feverishly rummaging through her diminishing memory.Dementia made him a stranger to his wife. 280 Characters (The zero space after the period was…