Platform Ticket

The gift of self

The zora trigger

Till fate do us part

Lost Edges

Hawk’s return

Mahajaya

brown gal in the rain

Recent Posts

River of dolour

Teetering on the brink, As if unsure and uncertain, It totters. Indecisive or may be hesitant It reins in its dampness, and Contracts into a moist orb, Glistening like a drop of dew. It lays there for a while Vacillating On the moist rim of emotions Which churn in the …

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Mother and memories

Mother, Do you remember those summer nights? We would lie under the stars On the Charpai in the aangan? You would urge me to look for shooting stars And prod me to wish upon one. I did that. I was young, I believed in magic. But, more than magic, I …

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Obliterated

  Far removed From the eviscerated Maw of pugnacious humanity I buzz… A mute spectator Hovering over the rim of the world. Like an open book, the world lays open, Its spine fractured under The onus of its bludgeoned self. Will it recover, ever? Will it be able to snap …

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