Three walls and a curtain (4)

A.. B.. C.. D.. E.. Blink. A.. B.. C.. D.. Blink. I recite the entire alphabet over and over and wait for the eyes to blink. My voice trembles the first time. I've never felt so desperate. Letter by letter, blink by blink, we form words. We slowly put disparate words in context, trying to... Continue Reading →

Travel Telltales 

Travel to me is road trips. Rocky roads and really long drives. A car trunk flooded with luggage, and some more in the rear seat. And by the feet. And on the lap. How it all fit into our little car, I'll never know. I've been traveling for as far back as I can remember.... Continue Reading →

Reading, Writing and Growing Up

My grandmother was a collector. She collected stamps, coins, postcards, letters, souvenirs, photographs, diaries and books. I was not allowed to touch any of that. At the most, she'd let me play with her jar of coins under supervision. But her books were never off limits. They were mine for the taking. She was an... Continue Reading →

628 (3)

"It's okay. It is. Okay?" Peering behind curtains, searching for a face. I have 5 minutes. Tick tock tick tock. A lungful of intoxicating smell. I've known this face for longer than I can remember. He's half asleep. I could just stand here, forever. I touch his shoulder, not knowing if he would respond to... Continue Reading →

Grey Skies (2)

It is a wet, grey evening draining itself into darkness. I get a call. There has been an accident. I sit there. Then I pack. It is a misty, early morning in Mumbai. As I wipe the fog off my window, I wait to arrive at my stop, unaware of how often and for how... Continue Reading →

Pieces (1)

I haven't been able to write because I do not fully comprehend what I attempt to say. During a time when I hold on to things fragile and distant, I wonder if something has changed. Something that has escaped from my being. As fragmented as the thought is, I write for I know that the pieces ought... Continue Reading →

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