Somebody called her an artist. Somebody called her a writer. But she was a visionary who. Painted life with her pen. The diary was her canvas. And her brush strokes were. Neat and deep, deep buried. In her eyes, like the shells in the sand. Her mind was a beach of thoughts. That visioned the sky as a bird. From the herd of people,. In her womb just like a pearl in the sea. The only pearl with the shine. And lust created by her own hands. Of stale and flaccid coat.

Each second of time that unravels,. You may have inflicted yourself with cuts and agony and forlorn,. Your insides scorn and mourn,. They have encountered in the past and anticipate in the future,. They are on the verge of a rupture. And pay heed to their behest.

Cruising towards the rocky shore. Happy Independence Day, India. And while I love the feminist part,. About the colonial part,. Or more accurately, how others. Feel about my ways being. By people who are stringent. Of course, I do;.

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? June 27, 2015. It means to be farsighted enough to trust the end result of a process. What does patience mean? June 12, 2015. Is it a sad symphony or an adorable lullaby.

A tiny rock, hidden inside the mud. A crow pecks at it. Until it falls into the stream. And gets swept, along with the other rocks. Each irregular and unique in its own way. Deviated from its journey, now flows along with the rest. Stripped of its rough edges,. The river ends at the Banyan Tree. And disposes off the stone. Along with a thousand others. No longer quite so unique. In this great, great world.

Sorting out my pieces and trying to get them together. My spine has been stroked by many. My pages have been gazed upon multiple times. Frustrated, you keep me aside. You pull at your hair wondering how easily someone else had read me, had understood me.

An Unnecessarily Long Metaphor for Letting Go. If you had one chance to point out exactly where your story went wrong, and go back to fix it, would you? Staring at the fabric of space, I let myself fall into time. I do not know when it ends or if it ends at all, but I am fearless.