Scream

I don’t consider myself a writer of poems. I used to write a lot of poems when words failed me and all I could be was to angrily scribble thoughts that sprawl into insensible metre. This was the next find in my Gmail Drafts. Unfortunately, Google re-saved it before I could check the date. So

Colored Red

This was in my Gmail Drafts. I have reproduced it faithfully without editing. I remember writing this story after my friend’s life.  July 14, 2010, is the date. I don’t know how this friend is doing since she mysteriously decided to vanish from my life a few years ago. Some of this is fiction, but

Always

I was clearing the Drafts I have in my Gmail folders. I am a bit strange that way. I have kept Drafts from more than 10 years ago. I have used Gmail to just jot down words as they come to me and then forgotten all about it. When my mind is restless, I turn

What I Read In April

“April is the cruelest month,” wrote one of my favorite writers, TS Eliot, in that magnum opus of a poem, The Wasteland. If you haven’t read the poem, please go and carve out some decrepitude of time and read it. “Hurry up, please, it’s time.” April wasn’t cruel for me, though. Last month was beautiful,

Meeting Old Age

The doctor’s diagnosis was swift. An orthopedic surgeon is what he called himself. That came with all the credentials that he had acquired over the years. MBBS. FHRCS. MS – fancy alphabets that were tagged on to his name like the extensions of a comet’s tail. He didn’t even need to be a doctor to

A Day of Ordinary – Paper Cups of Moments

Last evening, it rained heavily in Bangalore. The rain cast sweeping hues of melancholy on my car’s windshield until I stopped and got out of the car, embracing its sweep. Melancholy can serve a twin purpose – it can push you to the darkest corners of your soul, or it can also sweep the darkest

What I Read In March

Oh, March! That Month of Madness. Mad as a March Hare was I. Bereft of sense was I. Chasing Shadows was I. And yet, here I am, another month, listening to these wise words from Yeboah. “Only those with tenacity can march forward in March.” ― Ernest Agyemang Yeboah I agree. March is a rude

Just A Walk. Just Another Class.

I have a friend who gently, ever so gently, pushes me to explore boundaries I have drawn a border to, decorated, and felt proud of that design. Almost every other day, that friend gives me a ‘challenge.’ No, these are not the “Do 100 Push-Ups” kind. That wouldn’t be a challenge for me, anyway. But

Country Roads Take Me Home

I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. I am sipping black tea with a tinge of sugar (just decoction, as they called it), sitting on the stone bench in front of a small shop selling groceries in a village called Devi Gere. I have just finished my bottle

What I Read In January

Only I would think about the books I read in January AFTER I finish writing a post about the books I read in February. I had not really thought of making this a book review site, but I figured I have to make a place for the books I read, somewhere. This seems just as