Someone I Knew Died The Day Before

Someone I knew died the day before.

Someone I knew
Briefly, for a day,
Died,
Quietly, of age, at peace,
The day before.

Playing Dead a.k.a Am I Really Right In The Head..?

I play dead. I wonder if it’s something people do in general, or just a habit of mine.

What I mean to say is, I pretend to sleep or be unconscious when I feel like it. Or rather, when I don’t feel like it – when I don’t feel like getting up, or talking to people, or facing certain situations. I close my eyes and will the world to leave me alone.

Raindrops On A Leafy Afternoon

You know how everyone is a type of day deep, deep, down? Some drip sunshine so bright that you wear sunglasses to take in all their beauty. Some are dewy mornings that invoke a quiet wonder in everything around you. Some are dark nights riddled with thunder claps and lightening strikes. Some are quiet evenings that calm you down. Some are light drizzles on a warm summer day that send a rainbow your way. Some are freezing winters pushing you to seek comfort in warmth elsewhere. Some are spring mornings weaving butterflies in your hair. Have you ever thought about what kind of day you might be?

One With The Hills

To me Mumbai was a dot on the map that we were taught to mark for 5 marks in geography class. There it was, just below the large mass jutting out like a misshapen right claw off India’s body. The dot was Bombay when I started school and Mumbai by the time I finished.

The Creation-Consumption Conundrum

You’d think that all kinds of art would make you feel the same way. But it doesn’t. Music. Literature. Films. And of course, writing. Each of these gives me an entirely different experience, sets whole different moods.