​THE MEANiNG

It was dark. The bulbs hung tirelessly from the ceiling, their presence today was felt more than any other day. It was on days and nights like this that they actually existed. Today their existence had a meaning. Today they were dead. Kashiv was perched on the plastic chair he so rarely used to sit.… Continue reading ​THE MEANiNG

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REMAiN

And there he sat, at the corner table of the tea house, savoring each sip of the black Darjeeling tea. The look in the infidel's eye fanned my curiosity and I was instantly drawn towards him. I wanted to know this man who sat aloof from the world yet being an intricate part of it.… Continue reading REMAiN

THE BEGiNNiNG

  And, thus, under the ceiling of his room, with eyes open wide as the ocean, shining brighter than the sun, lay Kashiv. "This, then, is where people come to live; I'd have thought it more of a place to die.", the first lines of Rilke's , The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge, unsettled Kashiv.… Continue reading THE BEGiNNiNG