Onward and upward.

Eighteen years back,there was a thunderous clap that had jolted my insides. My eyes had gaped at Nature’s wrath that consumed everything along the way.  Since then,eighteen years have passed by. I still feel the jitters when I look at the sky washed with rain and the drama that the lighting paints on it.  Twelve … More Onward and upward.


I watched you dawdle your way to me  Inch by inch,like an aching snail Bruised,blistered I watched you from across the smokescreen  Your pagan sight  Parched lips  The sunset in your eyes  You felt me in the winter breeze that pressed its sugared lips on your forehead  The nape of your neck  I watched you … More Codeine 

Apple Pie

10 weeks. He’d keep coming back home from the hospital with greasy hair and pale skin,only to return to Room 109 in Clarkson’s welfare home every fortnight. I could see him from my large bay window as they carried him from his bed to the car. My eyes would so often look for him that … More Apple Pie

The early baggage.

The smell of sunshine on wet grass,the dew drops on a heavy morning rose,the careless flight of parakeets,chasing butterflies in the meadows;as a young child,one truly has a Charter as wide as that of the Wind,to learn,explore and frolic around. It was only yesterday that I was walking though the market area with rose tinted … More The early baggage.

Review on ‘Driving with Selvi’ by Elisa Paloschi.

This documentary captures the strife that a young Selvi is subjected to and her heroic struggle to unfetter her soul. This Canadian-produced, South India-set documentary throws light on astonishing statistics about forced marriage, and how 700 million women worldwide were married before they turned 18; 250 million of them before they turned 15. As a … More Review on ‘Driving with Selvi’ by Elisa Paloschi.

Not lost 

I let the atomies in his sunlit eyes  Dance on my skin like starlit skies  As they droop to meet the aura I exude  My soul elicits Jim like a musical prelude  Inching like an inchworm in soil  His fingers grip my palms in a coil Kissing alive tender spots on the surface  Like embers … More Not lost 


He draws on her flesh  With colours of the candle  Molten wax to tie her down And whispers soft  In a foreign tongue  Slithering ‘cross her gown  Her eyes-amazed  At his pagan sight  Heave and sigh in parts  He paints her body  With wild strokes Red ribbons and heaving hearts The candle’s flame flickers to … More Bondage 

Our reality.

Dear diary, When I was younger, I was taught that deception came in the form of lecherous men offering chocolates. Took me a while to realise that it can also be the pretty aunts in the family who ask you to get involved with other men.  I don’t see how the world,so easily,moulds us into … More Our reality.

The piece of music

 The slow ticking of a table clock The distant thumping of a hammer on a wooden panel The chinking of the metalled tip of my hoodie against the wall while I slowly turn into a complete circle,carefully in soft full circles,inward and inward,as if in a state of trance,waltzing away,dancing away,singing away..into this room full … More The piece of music