Fiction
“Trust me, Sam.” “I trust you Pihu. But I can’t believe what you just said.” Sam was minutely observing the can Pihu had just handed him. “Ok. You don’t have to. What worse do you think can happen?” “We can die, of course. And are you really sold
Fiction
Today’s was a typical summer morning in Tikwadi. It was a calm & pleasant dawn that the midnight breeze & the sun-beaten land had hatched together. And like every typical morning — summer, winter or of the rainy season — Paka sat expressionless at the window seat of his bus. His
Fiction
He walked back into the room, alone. He fancied such days. He was on his personal day-off when everyone else was at work. He had just finished his last chore. He did not remember the last time he had lived an afternoon so empty — empty in a good sense it
writing
Recently I read an article by Nick Bilton that announced, or at least inclined to, the demise of the pen. “Fare Thee Well, My Pen”, the headline read. It claimed “the pen is murdered by finger”. It claimed today’s technology driven world rarely gives us an opportunity, or rather
life
We, the humans, are a race of thinkers. We are pampered while growing up, someone always making the decisions for us. Proving the point from time to time that the decisions they made for us were correct, were for our greater good. We are deterred from erring. We are convinced
life
Speechless .... Thats how today's incident caught me. Really felt am i missing something? Am i really enjoying my life? Corporate world has indeed made me dry. Juiceless. Deprived of whatever fun element I had in my life. Saw the wetted earth today and there loomed the childhood days