When you ever read Or watch a movie, Don’t ever feel sorry For the good guy. Always root for the villain. Don’t cheer When the righteous wins, Clap when the sinner Burns down a village, And holler when they take away Everything from the knight.
Congratulations! You made it alive From the valley of death. Only one could have survived— It had to be you. I was a limping sore anyway. It’s okay if you left me to die, I was already starting to turn, They were messing with my
Oh mother! Oh mother! My only friend is gone. What am I gonna do now? When will I laugh, And how will I smile? You have taken away my playthings. What will I play with now? I have no toys left. Who will I tell
I heard love died yesterday, It was murdered— Foul play. A bow of distance, The weapon of choice, Slain by the very Cupid’s arrow That had birthed it once. In the reasoning of time, One falls short of words And fails to understand— Where did
Tears trapped in my eyes, From a past war Waged on my body. But my mind still carries Its wound— PTSD Is what they are calling it. I guess every feeling has a name. But I don’t know how A mere thought can be so
Last week, on my way to Ahmedabad, an adolescent stray dog was running along the edge of the road, still capricious, unaware of the dangers of the road and the speeding traffic. It suddenly veered off the rails and leapt to the right, playfully chasing
The Convent is a product that originated from one of my websites, The Darkest Blog—a place where all my fearful, anxious thoughts gathered to create stories out of thin air. Some were narrations, while others were pure figments of my imagination. I kept building upon the blog,
बादल, चंदा, तारे एक तरफ, पर सूर्य हमारा अतुलनीय। हमारे आसमान का पहरेदार,एक लौता ब्रह्मांडीय जीव, हमारे किरमिच की शान,अकेले ही बढ़ाता, जिसके चारों ओर हमचक्कर लगाते। और क्यों न लगाएँ? चीज़ ही है ऐसी! हमारे अवकाश का तर्क,हमारे अस्तित्व का कारण, दिन भर साथ
Sometimes, I feel the universe has a way of keeping certain things inaccessible—so that only when the timing is right, the doors finally open for you. This book had been sitting with me for more than a decade, and surprisingly, I never found enough time
So many days have gone by since Rafa announced his retirement. When he handed us the memo, I said to myself, It’s still not the final goodbye. The Davis Cup was still left—the last tournament where he was actually going to rest his sword. I kept busy,