Change the footwear if it is uncomfortable. It is a legacy. Shuffling feet won’t get you anywhere. Design your itinerary, make travel bookings, buy appropriate footwear and don’t let anything pull you back. But those are my roots. Then you are a tree, and trees are immobile. Six Sentence Stories
An impeccable profile-analytical at the core-liberal just enough to include others’ quotesto support your views… A closer look revealsfeet sunk in the depths of a wellwhere the frogs know no other language but their own They croak, they malign, they vilify, they demonisean outside voiceThey never know what the world is made of other than … Continue reading Frogs
A glass for you, a cup for me… I capture a moment for posterity, create evidence that you always lived amidst us, in our hearts, in my now fragile memory. But will you really care to know? Or is it only the counsellor? Shall we exchange the drinks? I know you prefer a hot snack … Continue reading What say you?
Bubbles are bound to burst someday. We driftinside their shimmer, mistaking the fragile glowfor life. The fault is never with love, but our illusionof permanence makes it seem sothe heartbreak when it dissolvesbrings us out of an intoxicated state. Can we imagine ourselves beyond,unbound, choosing freely,discovering the core once expectations fall away? This is where … Continue reading Bubbles
“Once upon a time, editors were human, and they liked to exercise control.” She wondered if the relic from ancient times on the creaking armchair was just nostalgic or lamenting the end of an era. He was holding a book with yellowed pages authored by him close to his heart. “Gramps, this is 2126. Algorithms … Continue reading Editors
muscles achescattered mindneeds focus eyelids droopguilt hits hardI must write a page callsa thought screamsI am home Tanka Tuesday Poetry Challenge
I commuted to college in the local trains of Mumbai, back when they were not closed and air-conditioned. A window seat was a morning prize; standing at the door in the evening, the wind rushing against your face felt like a release. Road traffic drifted below, and the rectangular windows in buildings became silent openings … Continue reading Windows
Hot air balloons of mutual expectationspuffed up with speeches and self-importance,hover like parade floats of borrowed virtue. One jab of realitysharp as a safety pinand the grand spectacle collapses,leaving the stench of heartbreakand a crumpled, wasted life Image credit - Lillian OLN at dVerse
undressingnever felt so goodpeeling off diaphanous garments-of imposed ideas-of attributed traitsthe scrap lying at her feetshards of broken mirrorsthat reflects a strangernot her face. floatingabove the groundShe feels the lightness-of authenticity-of a free mindunhinged from the gravity of expectationsShe flaps her wingsaligns herself with the skytakes off with the wind W3 Prompt #206
Outside the crumbling courthouse in Lucknow, a group of activists proudly announced their “relay hunger strike,” as if skipping lunch in shifts would terrify a politician who dines on stolen millions. Ramesh took the first turn, dramatically sipping water every five minutes, while declaring he was “on the brink of collapse.” Meena replaced him after … Continue reading Protest
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