Consistency of truth is the litmus test for truth. But I have found little evidence in my experience to believe that the truth must be generalized, one and for all. Here I am travelling to the airport in the midst of a mild thunderstorm. I am travelling to Nepal, to appear for a test which […]Read more "God’s light bulb"
Sunday afternoons always had a special place for me while growing up. The one thing that is deeply associated in my memory of those golden lazy afternoons of a Sunday is that of ‘The hot water bucket’. I had the privilege of getting up late on this specific day of the week. Mom woke up […]Read more "The hot water bucket"
A tale of two cities. I have a theory about photographs. People take pictures all the time to freeze or capture that moment and in a way digitize it permanently. Unconsciously, they know that this moment will pass. A camera is a tool to preserve a fraction of this passing moment virtually forever. What about […]Read more "A tale of two cities"
The Mountaineer There I am walking swiftly through the woods, following the trail to a mountain. I hear the rattle! I stand quietly in the middle of the night. Listening to the rattle again I stumble and run but I just could not outrun the pain. I was stung by the rattlesnake. I fell on […]Read more "The Mountaineer"
Breathing in the babel I was. But in a box. Well-structured edges, shiny, polished. And I walked inside, on the same faces, In the same motion, indefinitely. And I walked, Till one fine morning, when I fell, For you. You gave me imagination, passion, art. A feeling of being loved, a realization, That the path […]Read more "Breathing in the babel"
The Walk I was caught up on the side of a busy avenue of a metropolitan, a sandcastle built out of the dreams and compulsions of its residents. My destination was still a 5.5 kilometres away. There was a mild flavour of hurry stirred in my still mind by these blazing red taillights all around. […]Read more "The Walk"
They say, reality is the reflection from the corner of the Satan’s eye. They say that life is a cruel joke, Written by a knife drenched in the syrup of your desolation. They tell you that real is cruel and nothing ever goes right. Happiness is but a fainted scent of bakery air, In the […]Read more "A Daydream"