A Morning from the Past

When I woke up this Saturday morning, it felt I had woken up to a similar morning in the month of April a few years back. As I sit up gently rubbing my eyes, I see the sun rays streaming in through the netted window, and, I quietly admire the inanimate objects perched on my…

Sacred Red


Oh! My scarred forehead  Drawn in sacred vermillion Too scared to complain Red vermillion, red is blood What makes red sacred, ask I? Published here:


Coals, Clouds and Cups of Tea

Most of us like the smell of wet mud, don’t we? After the rains are done beating hard against the surface of the earth like a peculiar case of violence, the air feels new, young and reborn. Why ‘peculiar’ you may ask? Well, however harsh its splashes are, there are no signs of bruises, cuts,…

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Cooking Cinderella Dreams

I know she has arrived when I hear the soft dragging of her feet up the stairs sounding like the stealthy movement by a tiger’s paws on a freshly trimmed grass field. As she stretches her hand with fingers resembling creases left on a crushed white paper to open the door of our house, she…

Vermillion and the bride

Vermillion and the Bride

The vermillion glistened in the parting of your wet hair, Trickling down to kiss the bindi on the forehead fair It stopped an inch before, did not further dare…   Your earrings began rhythmic sway Caressing your hair; the pair stared at you in dismay The diamond perched on your nose winked a little You…