If you are a dreamer, come in.. The line is from Shel Silverstein’s poem, Invitation, as published in his wonderful book, Where the Sidewalk Ends. Shel Silverstein is an American writer, poet, cartoonist, songwriter and playwright. The prompt is set by Lillian at dVerse Poets Pub We don’t walk around here, we float, without moving from our … Continue reading Floaters
I wish people keep telling stories and writing whatever comes to mind - on social media posts, blogs, books on whatever avenues are available to them. Stories held captive in a lockdown, are likely to change form later. The pressure they are subject to, will ignite rage within, and discolour facts. Rebellion will be an … Continue reading Repression
Freedom for her means only one thing - not being told what and how and when to do whatever she did. The acts she is reprimanded for, are not worth a thought to the saner people in the world. Like where and how should the dish-washing brush be placed, how much water should be used … Continue reading Freedom
She carefully walked down the stairs, into the lawn, and foraged around to find a particular type of blade of grass. I was infuriated to watch her eat that. “Don’t we feed you enough?” She was astounded for a moment, but came back in my arms in her usual, forgiving manner. The stomach upset she … Continue reading Foraging wisdom
He’s charming. He showers praise on every little effort I make to keep the office machine running smoothly. Yet, I’ve a certain sense which reads between lines. Things can’t always be hunky-dory, so it made sense to accept that job offer which paid more. He doesn’t want to let me go, and is using every … Continue reading Personalities
Click on the image to write more stories “Homeless in the outer world, lives inside her mind” - the tagline to her social media profile intrigues, and she is no novice in the world after having spent a couple of decades here. I look forward to interviewing her for my fledgling show, and struggle with … Continue reading Homeless
They hugged each other and cried, though it had been only two hours since they last met. They were strong individuals, but tormented by the agony of being lost in an alien place. They could not speak or read the local language. Phone calls did not go through for reasons unknown. It took ages rewinding … Continue reading The Shift
I remember those wooden frames in my grandfather’s courtyard. We covered it with sheets, and made temporary shelters for ourselves on sultry afternoons, when the adults were all enjoying their air-cooled siesta inside. Those were moments of freedom, of creativity for us, when unbound by rules, we created our own worlds and played out imaginary … Continue reading Layers
Nobody wanted to work in Parliament Street branch of the bank, but I was offered no choice. We had to comply with absurd telephonic requests, where identity of the caller could not be verified. Refusal to comply was considered suicidal. The Machiavellian pattern of acts became clear, only when news of the fraud broke out, … Continue reading Machiavellian
She absorbs colours of the world to succeed and makes them her own. The world remains busy admiring her colourful robes, hair, eyes and everything she cares to don. She’s the Queen of Hearts. One evening, she is found dead in the bath tub of a hotel room. Nobody really knew what was happening in … Continue reading Swift Passage
Creative Experiments and More 