All the linked posts under this blog are an outcome of my observations about the things that often go unnoticed and the things that are often taken for granted.
I The ringing of the bicycle's bell was the first thing Shaman heard in the morning, the chirping of the birds came later. It had always been this way. Quite unlike what they showed in the Bollywood movies. He owed his acquaintance with the reel world to the 'screen on wheels'. An arrangement in which... Continue Reading →
Why, by the end, does everything turn into a source of pain? Arham is known by his colleagues as someone who dwells in the past. In his defence, he always asks them "well, who doesn't?" While everyone else is talking either about the future or their 'could have been' versions, he prefers to think of... Continue Reading →
He always woke up before the sun shone, and it had been that way for as long as he can recall now. His wife, when she was alive, used to bicker with him for his early morning alarms. "In the morning the sound of your alarms going off, and during the day your mother with... Continue Reading →
It was a Sunday, and it was a melancholic voice that woke Samaksh up from his slumber. 'The kind of voice that he would have otherwise only tolerated if he were drunk' he told Pradhaan -- his colleague -- when they later met at the workplace. 'Who sings such songs in the morning, yaar?' he... Continue Reading →
He had moved out of the previous apartment when it had become impossible for him to touch anything in it without feeling her touch on his hand. And this, he came to learn, as is the case with most of the other things a man learns only with the passage of time, happened to a... Continue Reading →
The room was reeking when he returned from the office, and the moment he unlatched the front door, the smell reached to him like a gust of wind. He retched, and though his ribs ached nothing came out from inside. He had never vomited in his life, not even when he was an unweaned child.... Continue Reading →
A friend once told me that writing emanates out of loneliness. I didn't know what he meant by that. 'Of course', I said, 'you don't often see a writer in a football stadium typing with a foam finger on just like you don't see a team playing football inside the room'. He smirked and added,... Continue Reading →
A Fine Balance 