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Respected Sir, I first saw you at the Ajmer Literature Festival just over ten years ago. I recall being intrigued by the group wearing yellow dupattas and white kurtas as I stood in the audience. When I inquired, the organizer explained that this was the Kalankur Rangmandal team getting ready for their performance that day.
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Often, my days pass like a routine. Being in the marketing industry, all days start with continuous tasks. I find myself moving from the computer to the cellphone, then back to the computer. This is followed by more work on the cellphone. Days like these prompted me to start noticing little things that bring me
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I’ve carried this scent with me since I was an infant. I couldn’t tell you what it was exactly, I only know how it made me feel. I remember being held in a tight embrace, a deep warmth pressed against my face. It was comforting, somehow. Familiar. I associate it with what I now think
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You knew the complexity of my nature, but you kept me close anyway. You knew how addictive I would be yet with every drag, you wanted more. I soothed you, I healed you, I lingered in your sighs and refused to walk away. Heavy lids were my cue, and I obliged. I was worth the
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I’ve always liked footprints.The ones left behind when no one’s paying attention.When no one turns around to check if they’re still visible. Those are the ones I cherish most.Because they’re real.Because they don’t try to be. Unapologetic.Unaware.Unintentional. Etched deep into the dirt, the sand, the snow —carved in from someone’s full weight. The ones that
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Like a regular Sunday, Sarah went down to the coffee shop. She ordered her favorite. It was a cappuccino with no sugar, an extra shot of espresso, and extra foam. She believed nothing was possible without her coffee. Generally, her Sundays were filled with chores she has avoided throughout the week. She does tasks like
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Years ago, I sent you a story. Once Upon a Time — by Tagore.I loved it, and I knew you would too… if only you read it once. But you had this particular distaste for fiction. I knew that.You wouldn’t even look towards it, let alone read it. I begged, I remember.So I did something
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We all remember those moments. Dads screaming at our Moms, and she brushing it off as “it’s okay.” It never was okay. And don’t we remember how the same actions were never “okay” when she did them back? Don’t we remember being told to simply “avoid it” when someone teased us on the streets of
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Someone asked me why is it so simple to speak with you?And I said: That’s because my 3 p.m. self and my 3 a.m. self are completely separate people. My 3 PM personality really brings a sense of expansiveness and endless possibilities to life. She says that life is made of our choices, not our circumstances, that really
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Stage Setup A single wooden chair centre stage. A dim spotlight isolates it in a sea of shadow. A faint ticking clock sound runs through the play, sometimes louder, sometimes nearly gone. No props except a notebook on the chair. Scene 1: The Interrogator (Lights: Soft golden glow, warm, uncertain. Sound: ticking steady, soft.) [Actor