I feel nostalgic for the era of simplicity we’ve moved on from. While the new one brings technological advancements, sure, but I still miss simpler times. Back when our biggest pastime was curating beautiful songs for our playlists, and then simply listening to them. I
An old man walks with his experienceAnd his adorable paunch, With an ailment in his pocket,A newspaper ‘neath his arm. Keen eyes for the steps ahead,Not so much for the drunken path, Chained to the table of time,Where he finds his daily bread, A life
I often think about how every experience that you have ever encountered, remains entirely yours. Nothing in the world can ever come close to understanding it. No one can fathom the nitty-gritty of what you are going through or what you went through. Sure, they
Emotions generally begin to impress on you at a very tender age. I was fortunate to have developed that appetite up young. Some might call it a curse to understand and feel for the characters of stories so early. But I have always treated wisdom
I have noticed that no one sticks to their obsessions for a longer duration of time. We might be crazy about one thing, give it a few months or years for that to matter, and suddenly, you are over it. There have been many instances
Recently, I got to visit a dhām, a sacred place where devotees throng in large numbers. Since it is quite popular, being squashed by people is obligatory. The experience that was supposed to be rewarding on day one ended up being sour, due to the
I often miss our communication,When we would speak so muchThat the world would evanesce,When we would hold each other’s gazeFor so longIt would unveil our longingTo be with each otherSo closeThat our breaths would mingleAnd fail to make out Yours from mine.What’s mine is yours,What’s
The world becoming smaller isn’t exactly a good thing. It has taken a lot of good old stuff from us. I hate how letters have gone extinct. Weren’t they a product of immense yearning? You wouldn’t waste it with your regular small talk. In a
Gaming has been a big chunk of my life so much that I always return to it. If I mull over the why, the only thing that makes sense to me is that maybe it takes me to a different world. The bizarre possibilities of
Why I hate to fightIs not the hurt,It is actually the aftermathWhen she pulls herself under a shellAnd struggles to trust me again.I was a monsterSome unfortunate minutes ago,It is so difficult to convinceThat I am not the same man,I was merely at my lowest