I still remember the day when, as a kid, I picked up a book for the first time. My teacher had informed my mother that my English reading wasn’t quite up to the mark and had hence the emphasized the need for me to put in more efforts. That evening, I went to the market Read more…

The puddle I jumped in as a child, is a cloud now white and fluffy.   The sky got its blue from the dust I beat off The old mattress.   The sun found orange shade from the air I breathed.   The comets are made from the dead nail clippings of my toes. The Read more…

The color of the morning seemed the same dull grey. The air I breathed in felt the same, sour and stale. But as I yawned aloud like I do, no sound escaped my gaping mouth. I looked down to count my scars as I do every morning, for the past is where I always start. Read more…

A tablespoon of rust mixed in blood and a pinch of acid for my bones A serrated piece of steel to hold the banged-up liver and a handful of sand in my eyes. With a bag new bought and shining wheels instead of toes I’ve been pushed down the road of conformity. Reeling and rattling, Read more…

The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you’ll go. Dr. Seuss Stories are the best thing that can happen to a child.  As a child grows up, so does his inherent yearning for stories. I often look back at the time when I Read more…

Where do we go from here? You ask As I stand bent tying my shoes Dusk descends you say Rest we must What’s the point? I say we started with lethargy in our bones, anyway. Where do we go from here? you say as we sit there drinking in the aged sunlight in solitude Where Read more…

I would describe myself as a reader in one sentence: “Do not leave me unsupervised in a bookstore.” I started reading books when I was nearly 8 years old. Once there arrived a ship full of books in the port near my home. I visited it with my elder sister. I was utterly awed to Read more…

Not even in my wildest dreams could I have imagined writing a story like this. My memories of reading go back to my childhood days when my grandfather used to make me read the the Jaimini Mahabharata. He would slowly and patiently elaborate upon the verses so that we could grasp the contents, which were Read more…

You make home in the heart of someone who helped mend the one in you. And you hope there is a home in your heart too, where they sit and sip love in the afternoons. You put all the things you love in your new home, rainbows and bougainvilleas; songs that play with time; journals Read more…

Since when have the windows become the cages of dreams? Iron rods piecing apart the roads out of reach.   Since when have the curtains turned from shield to sheath? Zipping away sunlight, darkness beneath.   Since when have the doors stopped opening at all? My demons and dreams have started sharing the hall.   Read more…