Thursday, June 4, 2015. You, who left with. You, with who I. You, whose gravel voice. With an old love song. You, who left with. Still play with the rain. In roads of strange crowds. You, who still writes. Friday, November 7, 2014.

Sunday, March 25, 2018. How difficult it must be to navigate the waters? I wonder how long it would take to pick up this skill? Links to this post. What is it about the waves and their restless nature that attracts me? Why do I seek that which is never at rest? Is it because I recognise that the only thing constant is change? Links to this post. A random hero - watching the waves while waiting for the boat. What was he looking for? I will never know.

Phantom footprints,Rough-shod feet, and deferred silences. Sunday, September 29, 2013. Saturday, December 31, 2011. Believe my heart to stop in high solitary places where all ceases but remembrance of you, breathing and yet not breathing like a sky grown old shooting stars unto eternity, burning and yet not burning like a candlewick that outlives all to tell the tale of a flickering flame drunk on its own light. Sunday, September 4, 2011. I do not call you by name. Sunday, May 22, 2011.

Lately, I have read quite a lot of posts written by our batchmates reflecting on their stay at Pilani during the last four years. Reading through them reminded me of the wonderful days that we spent together at our little village. Four years zipped past us before we could realize it. That led me into thinking about the years that eventually led me into getting admission at BITS Pilani.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010. While I think about what I want to write about next, take a look at this -.

Sunday, January 24, 2010. Is it a Shenoy? Tell me it is. He looked up at the sky. The evening was hanging loose and closing in. Pretty unseasonal for this time of the year in Tokyo, it looked like it might rain. He had an early flight to catch tomorrow. He was about to skip continents. The spring-summer show at Milan was getting under way over the weekend.

Saturday, January 01, 2011. Looking back at this year, given it is that time of the year, I realize that I have a written a lot. All you have are a set of people cutting, chopping, frying and serving food in the end. The site is here -.

There are times when one needs to pull out of the multiple spheres in which he is bound to operate as a result of being a part of the world around him. He needs to rise above the humongous mess and take a look at the map of intervening realities of which he is a part on the ground. The output of such a pruning is not always the greatest, but sometimes, it becomes necessary nonetheless.