Time

Have you ever wondered about the design of time? Well, I have.

It exists as naturally as the constant vibration of the cosmos, and as artificially as the tick of the second hand of a wall clock. The passage of time reflects in everyday life as effortlessly as breathing. Time serves the same purpose to existence as oxygen serves to life on earth. None can survive without either. A thinking mind knows no limitations when it comes to imagination, so let us stop using logic for a little while and play the game of imagination. Continue reading

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The Torn Earlobe

‘I didn’t mean to tear apart his earlobe!’ I said to my cousin.

‘Oh comeon! You continuously hit him right on his ear!’ He said, reminding me that it was me who was in trouble, yet again.

‘So, what do we do now?’ I asked my cousin who was equally terrified.

‘Let’s go to Nowshera I say, without telling anyone. There would be no way for them to know we are there. Dada doesn’t have a telephone at his home’, he said.
Continue reading

Mango Chutney

Mango Chutney, the book, tagged as an anthology of tasteful short fiction, was launched on the eve of Indian Independence Day of 2014 at Cha Bar, Oxford Bookstore, Connaught Place.

The book contains twenty six stories written by twenty six exceptional writers, bloggers, authors and social media celebrities on various topics. Incidentally, there happens to be a twenty seventh story in the book as well, just by chance, written by me. Continue reading

Daily Diaries – The Characters

Kya lekar tu aaya tha, kya lekar tu jaayega, Clap. Clap. Clap.

Jis tan mein tu aaya hai, woh bhi yahin jal jaayega Clap. Clap. Clap.

The loud singing of the old man wakes me up every morning before my phone’s alarm goes off. I spend a good half hour lying on my mattress, listening to his thought provoking songs on the rhythm of his clap beats. He invests such power in his tone, it makes no difference that he is singing outside his shop and I am in my room near the balcony of the fourth floor. Ninety minutes later, when I step down to begin my thirty minute walk to office, he is still singing. Continue reading

Bohni*

‘Bhenchod! This shutter gets stuck only at the time of bohni!’ grunted Chandan, trying to roll up the shutter of his shop, ‘and this Raju is of no use as well. I’ve been continuously telling him to get it repaired! Madarchod, all he wants is to smoke beedis, that’s all!’

Even at the age of sixty, Chandan had never been a minute late than six o’ clock in the morning to open his shop of medical supplies in Nauroji Nagar market. Opening the shop earlier than everyone provided him an extra edge over the other chemists near Safdarjung hospital or even the ones in front of AIIMS. Doctors at both the hospitals were aware of Chandan’s routine of opening his shop earlier than usual, therefore most of the midnight patients were told to buy medicines from his shop. Continue reading

Daily Diaries

Sidhharth collected the prints and began to study the various graphs and charts that showed the various aspects of the work being done at various levels in the company.

“Crap!” He frowned and drew a big circle at one of the bar charts, highlighting a data input mistake. He checked the time on his mobile and walked back towards his desk in a hurried pace.

“What about lunch Sid?” Aakash said while Sidhharth passed right beside him.

Sidhharth made a quick turn towards him and said, “Two minutes, that’s all! Our conversation is still pending!” Continue reading

Blocked

I am forcing myself to write from the last two hours.

I started six stories and stopped them all. I can’t feel the words flowing through me tonight. I haven’t written a single blog post since two months. How lazy I can be at times!

I worked on my book in bits and pieces during the last two months. I watched cult movies and read lots of motivational quotes online, but couldn’t motivate myself to pick up the pen and write. I am angry on myself. I want to slap myself so hard that my lazy self wakes up and act on the laid out plan because I do not have much time. Continue reading