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

Fire flies

I sit by myself on a Delhi winter morning,curled up in 3 layers of clothing and a puffy quilt. The morning shows herself carefully from behind the blinds,as if in a careful melodious rhythm so as to not destroy the lull in my mind.  Any normal woman would call it deserting one’s morning chores like … More Fire flies

Welcoming 2017.

What’s that noise in the distance? The soft ruffling breeze mumbling muffled sounds in a foreign tongue.The careless purring of a Persian cat stretched out on a lavish couch caressing her own coat. The old man sitting by the tea shop looking at the faint fate lines on his palms. Youngsters playing crass music and … More Welcoming 2017.


What is this drug that lingers on?  In smouldering ellipses and whirls of smoke Some meth to doze the senses  Ten bottles of burning coke  It is not sickness that afflicts me  But this nagging burning in my bones  The gloom of yesteryears  The water nymph’s last groans  And one by one,these leaves fall  One … More Frost

FINDING THE KNIGHT. I’m neither kidding nor am I quoting Miss.Fantastic or Miss.Plastic. I sit here in the smoggy corridors of Miranda House,overlooking the tennis court while these thoughts lace themselves up and sprint across my mind. There’s an occasional clatter of the workers dragging paraphernalia along the corridor on the carts,constantly perturbing the stillness … More


You’re perfect. You’re worth the pain. You’re worth the longing.. the heartburn You’re like a peaceful disaster Tearing down my resistance, my narrow tapering will Welcoming the pangs in me-of love, uncertainty and disaster   I know the nature of this longing That wails in a familiar tune,echoing familiar fears Tiny ghosts of warmth and … More Pangs