Autumn Leaves

Autumn leaves don’t get invited to birthday parties. They are too loud, too messy, too close to crumbling with far too much parched skin that no drunkenness of any sort can save. They are too dead to celebrate life. Autumn leaves are lonely. Each cry for help gets muffled under the cracks and snaps and…

And I Could Have Told You I Loved You

I could have told you I loved you. I said goodbye tried not to cry said I’ll be alright probably lied hung up. 6142km is too far for my voice to fly, to run, to walk, to crawl. I know. And I could have told you I loved you while I had the chance. I…

Deep Breaths

The easiest way, they say, to calm your nerves is to take a deep breath and count to 10. So breathe in, breathe out. It is only as big as it gets in your head. Fear is fickle. Wading its way through the cracks of your mind, only to plant roots in parts of your…

If I Should Have a Daughter

If I should have a daughter, and whenever I do, I’ll make sure I tell her not to have hopes from you. For I know you won’t treat her the way you probably should, and my daughter won’t keep shut the way I usually would. There will be no bedtime stories to help her fall…

The One Who Could Have Been

Professor Snape was never really anybody’s first choice, even with his commendable fashion sense and the perfection in his voice. There was always someone ever so ready to take his spot, whether it concerned loving Lily, or just his teaching job. Cursed with bad luck from the very beginning, he lost his first love to…

To Men who Make Homes out of Glass Bottles

Do not mistake endless arrays of your reflection for an army, this is not a fortress you have built for yourself, it is a battlefield, and your very own weapons are plunging daggers through your heart. The low hum of the varying remnants of alcohol is not the soundtrack of your summer, the nostalgic Hotel…

Pixels

There are memories etched in the pixels of nostalgia stained photographs that these Braille lusting fingertips have left for generations to come, a cotton candy universe slowly building itself up, spreading out of the corners, like an algae or a weed waiting to be noticed, to be talked about, to be remembered with a distant…

The Boy who Loved

Durjoy Datta’s “The Boy who Loved” markets itself as a Romance Novel, and has been claimed to be the fastest selling Romance Novel of 2017 (in India). The first of a two-part romance, “The Boy who Loved” traces the seemingly ordinary whereabouts of its 16 year old protagonist, Raghu Ganguly.  The novel is an epistolary…

Seashores

I could tell you his eyes run deeper than oceans, but deep waters like those turn green, with more algae and moss than room to breathe. So instead, let’s call them a seashore, which is to say, if you stare right into them under direct sunlight for long enough, you will eventually be teleported to…

An Ode to Twilight

The evening sky is tinted like sepia stained photographs as if to tuck in the happenings of the day into memories before they crumble beneath the weight of cloudless nights. There is a sweet scent of nostalgia in the winds of a hard day’s evening, the same that lingers in between the rustles of autumn…

Stairway to Faith

Faith is a fickle fiend. I tell myself after every lost war that my belief in God is a figment of everybody’s imagination forced onto mine like a dome over my endless skies. It is all my anticipation placed upon a loose thread, a broken bridge, a map filled with paper towns, and basically anything…

The Other Side of Beginnings

Beginnings, by definition, are the points of origin, which means you could pinpoint the origin of every moment in the maps of your memories with a little flag. The best part about cartography is how seemingly small it makes everything look like, every pinpoint is a city, every moment an abandoned town, and suddenly, you…