Midnight Soliloquies

I’m in your city after a long time. It’s strange how much it has changed since. Yet some things have remained the same as before like the air, still hot, humid and heavy with lingering traces of salt. It makes me happy to think that at this moment, you and I, though physically far apart,…

Coffee longings

It was odd at first glance. The way he was looking at his coffee as if he was lost in a deep meditative state. I had never seen anyone treating their coffee this way before. He drank it real slow, like he was performing some kind of ancient ritual to honour the sanctity of the…

Evanescence

I first noticed her in a sea of faces, radiating differently, smiling at almost everything that came in the periphery of her sight. Her gaze was dreamy and filled with tentative hopes and fragile wishes. And the visage, it was something otherworldly- absolutely naked, flawless, and truthful like a baby. She floated through the crowded…

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…

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.

Post the Masterpiece

A creator, irrespective of his exceptional gifts, can never replicate the level of perfection and beauty of his masterpiece.In the solitary room, he would sharpen his tools, trim the brushes, grind and mix pigments, stretch and level the canvas on the wall, and then get busy capturing the initial impression of the subject he had in his mind. However, it would never be the same.

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,…

The Healer

Magi works in a luxury hotel spa. She is an expert in aromatherapy oils and herbal massages. Her vast knowledge of natural remedies and medicinal baths surprises and impresses her extensive list of clientele and is the reason they keep coming back to her for more. Two drops of lavender oil on the pillow would…

The motel room

Her eyes ran through the dimly lit room, scrutinising every object. The crumpled silken sheets were frayed at the edges, the satin flowers embroidered on them had lost their sheen; splotches of sweat mixed with dirt collected over the cushioned headboard were in dire need of scrubbing; the faded lampshade on the bedside table had…