Darling, And you know why I write to you, you have all the answers? Did you read my last letter? Did you then throw it in the furnace, as was done to those that were the carrier of bad tidings? My letter was just a soulful moan; a heartfelt whine. You know Blishé, how I… Continue reading LETTER TO BLiSHÉ – IV
And the owl was privy to the affairs of the night. Nursing an unhinged head, it was the only witness under the moon's milky light. *** A hand covered in dust, dirt and time sneaked in from the window. Certainly, to commit a heinous crime, the hand had come alone like a widow. It grasped… Continue reading NiGHTMARE
My love, And before I ask if you still remember me, tell me did you ever forget me? Be honest.What else should I think, I am ruined for life. You don't write letters to me anymore. You don't laugh with that little tilt of your head anymore. You remember, dear Blishé, don't you? I told… Continue reading LETTER TO BLiSHÉ – III
And the blind man moved enthusiastically, unafraid through the speeding, morning traffic. The horns honked and the shouts played, but, nothing could get to his stubborn head. He appeared unhurt on the other side. Little did he know of the end that waited for him. He had gone there to meet his lover, and then… Continue reading THE MAN FROM TiME
And, this was not how it was meant to be. But, can one help it? Do you know how it was supposed to be?Bruised and battered, I lie awake like a corpse; eyes open and clear, I sleep like the dead. From a distance, I am scary and disturbing because that is how you feel… Continue reading THE FALL
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And the feather of thought swayed with the lightness of the wind. They say, you have to be the wings of the bird to fly; to travel and unravel, to stay and drift, to be and be forgotten, to be seen and imagined, to be the truth and a lie. The lights got dim, and… Continue reading THiRST
And on the seventieth floor of the skyscraper was a room numbered 7T57 that is where I had come to. As I put the key and pushed in the door of the room, it opened out to a garden, well, that was what it looked like. There were chairs and tables of polished wood and… Continue reading THE WALK
And as I walk, crushing the dead fragile leaves, under my feet, I stop after a few brisk steps. It was and is never easy to jump out of a small window and track the faded footsteps on dry grass, but that exactly is how I will find my way back home. I have travelled… Continue reading HOMECOMiNG
“And today is no different”, she said. Like a mathematical assumption, let the girl be X. Let her be X because I really do not know her name, or what she liked herself to be addressed in. She sat there on the lonely bench, holding a copy of The Liar’s Weave by Tashan Mehta. Intrigued… Continue reading BEHiND THE VEiL
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