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…
Tag: Blogging
Mind Lies like a Mango
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…
Unwaiting for Godot
Disquieted and quietened we stand, the pair of us at the brink of the Internet, conjoined and disjointed at the splice of consciousness and a uniform resource locator. Beguiled enough to have waited for ages, we have figured it’s time…
Years in the Ash
The old year shrivels like a dog-eared calendar in the ash,Days fuse into dust, hope into hungry tinder, in the ash. For a decade of writing my heart out on the Internet,The façade has imploded in its splendour in the…
’Oumuamua
My muse is a furious fugitive from a foreign galaxy, not unlike the intergalactic interloper ’Oumuamua, who having orbited the fuzzy nebula of my brain is now poised for an exodus to unknown dark matters.
Why Did the Chicken Write a Blog?
ARNAB GOSWAMI: Can you tell this, on this channel, right in front of all of us: why can’t the chicken write a blog? The nation wants to know. RAHUL GANDHI: The chicken has written the biggest blog since Independence and…
The Orb of Hereafter
About a week shy of the onset of the New Year, I presumptuously augmented the copyright notice at my blog to 2017. Don’t mistake me, I have long stopped caring about the trolls looking forward to plagiarizing my mumbling —anyone…
Nightfall of Blogging
As the nightfall of blogging closes in on me, I am more inclined to exhaling in private than gasping online, more willing to navigate through the bushes and backwaters than honking in the perpetual crescendo of the world wide web.…
The Silence of the Scrolls
It’s been a while since the nightingales sang in the darkness, fidgeting on boughs swaying in the night-wind. It’s been a while since the fingers splattered on the keyboard like an impromptu rain. There is this dike thin as rice…
Shakespeare’s Email
'The evening is still, the birds silent, the wind dead like a tramp, flopped on a footpath. The sky is dressed in dust and dusk.' (From my short story: End of Dusk) I look at my face in the mirror…
Diamonds in the Detritus
I remember how in my childhood time was like a river of molasses where I’d twiddle my thumbs like a noonday fly waiting for my father to return with the promised goodies. Waiting for the monthly issues of comics was…
Breeze on the Grass
“The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamouring to become visible." ~Vladimir Nabakov My dear readers, we have been together these past years. I have known…
One Grain Amongst the Storm 