A Mélange of memoirs, fiction, short stories, verses, book reviews and uncorked angst.
It was on the Saturday the 24th of October, 2020, with the three days’ holiday in its infancy, that I dozed off with a mild ache pulsing through my meagre frame, right after the morning bout of toast and ginger-chai.…
This drop on the sill, a distant cloud come home on wings of heaviness, or grief as I know.
(This brief ghazal is dedicated to Disha Salian and Sushant Singh Rajput who were brutally murdered on June 08 and June 14 of the year 2020 seriatim, in the city of Mumbai.)
Sullen rain simmers, pretends to slalom and surrenders,recoils in the clouds of sodden discontent.Arid thoughts smother the sapless jelly of life.It is the month of August, the fat middle ofan unrelenting virus, spinning off the sporesof a shivering November,it’s nowhere…
Confined to the peripheries of my home, looking out the window at a mysteriously pink moon rising day after day, I have of late been forced to cogitate on the wonders of being alive, the hump in the lawn not…
I do not know whether the citizens of United States take Mr Trump literally or seriously, or both, and I am glad I am not subject to that trilemma. But I was thrilled when he called the Chinese Virus a…
Yes, I have descended to filching from weird quotes of indeterminate, ambivalent origin and intent. True, I have faltered, faded, fumbled and stumbled into that eternal bin. The crispy tang of the green fruit before ripening into succulence has mellowed…
(Further to Bruno's Story) It seems I have troubled your heart, but it is a tale recount I must. So that next time you see a dog pup scrapping the bins for crumbs, you don’t wince in disgust. And when…
(Arun Jaitley: 1952—2019) The flag is at half-mast, a gloom shrouds the chancel of the land; The one who hugged oblivion was once the counsel of the land. Soft spoken, discreet, a maven of silken-tongued satires, He unmasked and foxed…
What memories have etched this incision in the night? My heart will crumble without a reason in the night. The throbbing in the air is the labour of my breathing, Ardour of the sighs is a petition in the night.…
At the end of long nights birds chirped and squawked, squirrels chattered their heads out. The wind rose and fell and the tall trees whispered. Footsteps swelled and footsteps receded. Footsteps stopped and guffawed and came to peep inside our home. Footsteps cackled.
Dear Finn, I don’t even know where to begin. But the skies get creepy like a hole in the mouth of a snake with each passing hour. And darkness falls like flakes and sinks into the soul of the dogdom.…
