When lockdowns began last year, it was just another day for me at home, considering my self-appointed job as an aspiring writer. There was the scare of a new, unknown disease looming in the backdrop, but I was still doing my same-old-same-old for the day.Continue reading “IN Writing Retreat”
How many stars are there in the sky? Infinite, or so we have been told. How many drops of water exist in the ocean? Infinite, or so we have been told. We live in a world where we count apples, colours and people and not flavour, fragrance and sky. It sounds so straightforward, right. Countable and uncountable nouns. The grammar of countable and uncountable nouns. The clarity of it all. But is it really that clear? Continue reading “To count or not to count”
यह कविता एक मरते हुए व्यक्ति के आखिरी विचार हैं, जब वो ये चिन्तन कर रहा है कि उसने जीवन में आख़िर क्या खोया और क्या पाया ।
Flipping through the pages of yet another piece of fiction, I had an epiphany. There was something wrong. The book was well-paced. Nice plot. Then what was it? After a few moments of silence, I got the answer.
Hiraeth is a Welsh word that refers to the longing for a home that no longer exists.
“What would an ideal date be like to you?”
The moon has no light of its own and merely reflects sunlight while the stars we see have their own lights. Still, the world celebrates the moon owing to its bigger size as compared to the twinkling stars. Sometimes, this happens with people too. Continue reading “नूर”
Recently, I read about an interesting phenomenon. Imagine that you are offered a gold coin right now or two gold coins tomorrow. What would you pick? Most of us would pick two coins later and for good reason. Continue reading “Reverse Evolution 1.0”
Sometimes, I write about how much I don’t want to write. Sometimes, I am unable to write because I have just finished a beautiful book. Sometimes, it’s just the good old writer’s block. Confused?
As I stepped out of the building, the evening sun washed me over as if it was trying to have a final word before it leaves, followed by another familiar feeling. It was the petrichor. The wondrous fragrance of the first rain of the season.