The Fisherman

There once was a fisherman that lived beyond a river that had been long dried up. The once lustrous flow of clear water that bore fishes large enough to feed families now only had stones carved by its water-round, dilapidated, slowly degenerating. The fisherman out of habit visited the river each day in a hope that water will someday start flowing through it again and feed him. He would everyday open his net, spread it neatly over the river bed and wait for the water. At the end of the day, he would again collect his massive net and with a heavy heart head back to his home. He would spend sleepless nights on his bed thinking about the next day and how lavish his breakfast, lunch and dinner would be had the river started flowing. Days passed and turned into months, months to years and years to decades when one day the fisherman didn’t have the strength to move. He became a captive of his situation, unable to even move. He could now only think about the river and all the fishes in the river and how they would be calling his name. The fisherman thinking the same closed his eyes one day to let sleep intoxicate him. He woke up the next day to find he was his younger self with muscles of that a teenager. He quickly grabbed his net and rushed towards the river. The river was flowing with water that gushed so fast even the stones were carried in the flow. The fisherman jumped with joy and hurriedly started to unfurl his net when he heard a sweet voice call his name.  Filled with awe he turned around to find a beautiful girl standing, a face he recognized from somewhere. Hello Miss, I think I have seen you somewhere, he remarked as he started to walk towards the girl leaving his net on the ground. How can you forget me, the girl said, I was your fish, the girl had remarked. The fisherman was found dead the day before. 

Photo by Mathias Reding on


For some days there was this deep sadness that has been grappling me, taking over my entire body as I tried to battle it. The days become longer even after the Sun settles and the noises around me dull down to almost inaudible levels. This sadness manifests itself in many ways, sometimes my poetry and sometimes other things such as my daily routine. 2020 had been a great year for me. I joined a job I’ve been waiting for three years now, got my first book published and many more things. However, the loss of my beloved Joy was something that I had thought I had recovered from.

It’s difficult sometimes being the strong one, keeping up a strong face for others so that they don’t break down. It’s a responsibility people rarely discuss. I remember my school days. Each day I attended my school, I was appalled. Didn’t want to go a single day. Didn’t have many friends and talking with others was such a big hurdle for me back then. (It still is but I can now reply in much better fashion than I did before. ) I would come back from school, watch cartoons with my brother for sometime and would then go back to studies. I wasn’t a person who would enjoy sports nor any outdoor activity as most sports required a social interaction, something I have feared for the good part of my life. Growing up is such an organic process that you wouldn’t even notice that you have grown out of your own shell. The things that could rile you up sometimes, now even don’t cross your minds, the happiness that would come so easily, eludes you when you work hardest for it. Earning more and more, big house, big car, pumping iron, botox, alcohol, women, drugs.  They bring you bouts of happiness, or just an illusion that your soul doesn’t crave for anything, for the moment. It is satisfied, its thirst quenched, it can finally close its eyes while it lays on the bed. But what happens when these fade off. The silences chase you to the far side of the moon and you grasp for air. For your air was that illusion, that moment that brought you happiness. After school, as the school bus dropped us at our house, me and my brother would run back to the house and the smell of freshly cooked food would bring wide smiles to our faces. I am still like this. Whenever an opportunity opens up at the office, I run back straight to the house. My house is my sanctorum, the place where I can be me and not someone I cannot like. Sometimes we would meet our father for lunch and we displayed the best of our behaviour. It was back then we thought that our father should be one whom we feared. He cannot be a friend. Times were different back then. He was trying his hardest to put food on our table and roof above our head. He wouldn’t talk much back then. But now when he has passed that phase of life, he has become our friend. Maybe he always was. Although, he has time now, but we two brothers have become someone else. 

Change is the only thing that’s permanent. I had heard that many times and wasn’t much an advocate of the fact, as being the person I am, I am a big fan of inertia. The rock should stay where it has stayed for long. Changes bring me anxiety, maybe anxiety is a strong word. Maybe my anxiety might not be as the way your anxiety behaves with you. But mine too takes me down a waterfall, sometimes even an endless tunnel that doesn’t seem to have any light at the end. My father keeps on asking us to sit with him and talk with him. Sometimes I want to, every fibre in me wants to, but then a thought floods my head and I just walk away from him. I want to provide a bigger house, a bigger car for him. The smell of food doesn’t fill my stomach any more.

Men have always been the provider, its embedded in their genes, just like motherhood is embedded in girls. We work hard, most of the times so hard that night becomes day and day becomes night. Its a strange paradox. The battle starts right from the day we fight millions of prospective candidates and become a living being in our mother’s womb. Nine months she carries us, taking care of the house she has been living,  a house that might sometimes be so strange to what she might have left back. We keep on fighting and not all the times for materialistic gains. The saint struggles to find God, the fool struggles to find gold, the hungry strives for grains, the clouds crave for land, the land wants to touch the sky. I’ve always heard people saying that you find Moksha when you are done with your responsibilities and that your work here is done. If Moksha was something so real and so tangible, wouldn’t we find it performing our responsibilities? I know all of this might sound too dramatic, even too dismal for people. Aren’t we failing as human race if empathy sounded of something weak, gullible. Shouldn’t we be “One for All, All for One.”? While going through some interviews I did for my book, I was asked what was really in my book. I thought for a while and could of all the poems think of one poem that I wrote :

The winds had thundered that day, 
As the earth trembled, 
And the oceans laid their chest bare open, 
When everyone took refuge in their homes, 
He took out his ship, 
Opened the mast up and high, 
Steered the little speck in the mighty sea, 
Towards the highest wave, 
That stood infront of him, 
As the ship climbed the wave, 
It reached the top, Rode the wave hard, 
It broke, it broke, it broke, 
The will of the sea, it broke,
The wave caressed the ship down, 
Onto its chest, 
The ship had tasted blood, 
The boy had become a sailor…. 

This poem was something I wrote during my darkest times to remind myself that there would always be something good at the end of tunnel, that there’s always a silver lining to a cloud, that after the storm, Sun shall shine bright again. It was this poem that I have turned to again and again when I thought myself to be not thinking straight, of thinking to embrace the darkness. I keep a happy face because this mind of ours is a very innocent being. You can fool it very easily. Just pretend that you are happy and it will listen to you. Think that you are sad all the time and it will think as such. This might be true for most of us. However, things tend to become way more complex for the people who cannot communicate their emotions to others in a way they want to. A link that they have craved for their entire lives and maybe will crave for the rest of their lives. It’s this feeling of paralysis, the virus that affects me most of the times. Words have always been my friend, they know my deepest secrets and they listen so carefully, almost like a communication that my mind has craved for eternities. It almost feels as one. I am not my usual self and I think that’s organic too. Maybe the inertia I desire is fictional. Maybe sadness wants to stay with me for sometime. 

I close my eyes, 
To see the stars,
Embedded in the garb of night,
They sing me lullabies to sleep,
The cold showers of twinkling light,
That calm my wounds,
And repair the skin around them,
For wounds don’t heal,
They never do,But the stars are kind,
They show me the path around the wounds,
I see the planets around them,
The many galaxies I could easily live,
The reality I want them to be……….

In Print….

This wasn’t possible if there weren’t the people who supported me through the thick and thin of life. This book is more of them than mine.

Symphonies of a Curious Mind is my first collection of poems that I have tried to nurture with all my patience and all the writing I have taught myself over the years. It is a piece of my heart and my mind..

A big Thank you to all of you…😇

Symphonies of a Curious Mind Amazon link

An Ode to Friendship

This post is an emotional one and a very private one indeed. I had to write this as the emotions inside me are just too overwhelming to be told to anyone. For those kind enough to read through this, I thank you from the bottom of my heart and believe that you shall respect this very intimate feeling. 

It was the year 2011 and I had just started to go to a college. There was lot of excitement and fear about the college life. The college was completely a different thing for someone like me who had been a studious student to the school. As I tried to blend in with the new environment, a day my mother called me and said to me that she found a snake in the kitchen. We all were worried and as the college got over, I got back to the house and all four of us began to talk. I had always wanted a dog and I thought that this might be the only opportunity that I would get, so I proposed getting a Labrador as I heard stories about their sniffing powers. My parents immediately dejected this idea and shunned me away. But I was persistent. Days and days after requesting them, they finally agreed on getting a Labrador Puppy.  We did some research on the internet and found a number that dealt with them. Everything was decided and the person who just had a Labrador Puppy decided to give one to us. I remember it was a Sunday and the person lived at a distance of about 3-4 hours. All of us were excited and we even prepared a little bed for the puppy to come. The person came and he had the puppy in a shoe box. He was so small that he couldn’t open his eyes. We took him and gave him some milk and let him rest on the cold floor. He was so small that when he slept he put his entire face in the  slipper. I tried to comfort him  by putting him in my arms. The next thing came on naming him. We had decided on all kinds of names but my Mother was persistent on one name-Joy. He was named Joy as in a way he had brought joy in our lives. Days passed and he grew so fast. He loved going out on his walks and would pull us like crazy. He had immense strength so much so that once my mother tried to take him for a walk, he pulled and she fell down. Since that day it was either me or my brother who would take him for his walks. We had seen many dogs perform tricks, so one day we decided to teach him some. The first thing was sitting down. We would take some treats and teach him to sit down. He got so perfect in so less time that we were amazed. We didn’t even have to tell him, just showed our finger and we would sit down. We also taught him to shake his hand. He would like a gentleman sit down and always give his right hand to shake. Everyone was same for him. He loved everyone and everyone loved him. He was especially famous with the kids of the locality. Whenever my mother used to sit in the morning to pray he would sit besides her and watch her as she did her prayers. Just like a honest disciple, he watched everything what his teacher did. Joy loved playing with clothes and he would bring us a piece of clothe and ask to hold one end while he pulled on the other and would love chasing people. I remember I would slightly push him with my leg and he would chase me around the entire house until either he was tired or I was tired. Everyday when we came back he would come running to us and lay his entire body weight on us. He has been someone who has listened to some of my deepest secrets and has stood by me for so long that seeing a day without him is almost close to impossible.

For Nine years Joy has eaten by my mother’s hand. Every single day my mother has fed joy like she would feed us, requesting him to eat his food, sometimes even getting angry at him. It broke all ours heart when Joy stopped eating food. Nothing seemed to work and all of us were helpless. Seeing someone so close to you and the way they adore something such as food, not accepting it has shattered me to many pieces. I have cried so much and so more that there was a moment of weakness I had started to believe in something I didn’t hoping that a miracle might happen and he would start eating. I haven’t seen such a weak Joy ever since he came as a little puppy. I could never carry him in my arms as every time I tried to, he would growl at me. But he cannot walk now and every time I have to carry him, every fibre inside me cries but still I keep a straight face for my family because I know if I cannot hold myself together, they would lose it too. I have lost some people that I have loved in all my entirety and I know that I might recover from this loss. Its hard to accept that a creature so loving and so loyal can leave you so soon. They have such small lifetimes. My mother had said this to me while I held Joy in my arms and my brother was driving us to the hospital this Saturday. Diwali this year was so painful. Everyone tried to put up a happy face but deep down they knew that this might be Joy’s last Diwali and the worst part of it is that we cannot even feed him the things he so much loved. I am writing this after trying to feed him something.

I want to write so much more but my throat has run dry and my hands are trembling at the thought of losing Joy. I want to tell you so much more about the wonderful things he did for us and how he saved us from the darkness while he fought his own demons but I cannot. I have considered myself to be an expressive fellow who knows what to say and when to say it but this moment, this situation has made my gut helpless reaching for words. This post was my way of dealing with such a magnanimous loss although I want him to recover and if there is god, he knows we are trying our best. Whatever happens I just want him to go peacefully in his sleep, to the fields where Sun is always up and the winds carry a scent of lavender. I just hope someday I will meet him again……

Symphonies of a curious mind

With excitement that knows no bounds, I present to you my first book.
The beautiful cover has been designed by my younger brother @kumar.shrey95 who has adorned this hard work of mine with his art.
This book is the result of endless sleepless nights and my thoughts that have come to me over the years.
Symphonies of a Curious Mind will be my first book and I need all of your support and blessings for the same.
Coming this 2020.
Thank you.

My first love…..

My mother lives in a dream,
Everyday she wakes up,
She watches me run for her ankles,
For they bleed of her smiles,
That she lost while bringing food for me,
Only to create castles in stone,
The foundation of which her desires,
I will always be her prince,
The one true worthy of her love magnanimous,
But I sometime wake up,
From slumbers of years,
The inertia that pulls me down,
And growls at me when I wear my shoes,
I work with all the force thats left in me,
For I want her smile never to fade,
And widen with each passing day,
She will be the first love,
Always be and till the eternities,
Till I can remember,
And do the stars,
The castle she etched in stone,
And the dreams she cast in thrones…..

My eyes shall always see,
The hero of my dreams,
The one that carried me in his arms,
And took me to places high,
I rode his shoulders,
And sometimes his heels,
I was his princess and will always be,
He brought me daisies, tea pots and ponies of wood,
The little escapades away from the school,
And cried when my heart broke alongwith the doll,
He carried me and my dreams,
On his shoulders wider than the world,
He will be my love the first,
The one who could never break my heart…..

For a boy his mother is and will always be his first love. The one who understood him even before he could say anything. She cared for him when he wasn’t easy and when he might have taken her for granted. No one can replace that position. A mother will never ask anything in return. Just a smile and her day is made.

For a girl, her father is and will always be her first love, her hero, her prince charming. She will always measure the amount of love that she gets from the world by how her father portrayed for her. No one can love a girl more than her father because he never expected anything from her.

From my experience, if both the partners can understand this simple fact, life would be so much easier for them. A girl can never take the place of her partner’s mother and a boy can never love a girl the way her father did. They can only try to replicate what they get from each other and if one is lucky, maybe she gets a man raised by a queen and he gets a girl honed by a lion. Just respecting, taking each other’s parents as their own will do the trick. Together they write the perfect love story, imperfect though perfect. Loyalty comes from both ways and it stays if we work for it, put in effort, sometimes easy as saying that I love you and sometimes difficult when the real, true face without any masks, any mascara, uncensored, real comes knocking you out. But we stay, for our mothers and fathers taught us, good things come when you work for them. Rome wasn’t built in a day….

Me with my mother..

Getting a haircut..😅

I have always wanted long hair since the time I could remember but was not courageous enough to ask my mother or my father if I could do it. Long hair=vagabonds, my father and mother had always thought and that keeping long hair would cause me to distract myself. So I went to the barber with my father every-time we had to take a haircut and we sat through whatever haircuts he would order the barber to cut. It was always, short hair, shorter than the last time. Haha. Me and my brother never questioned our father because we never had any time to think about the style of our hair. Whether it was school or any party, our hair was set by either my mother or my father. It was so that even today, my Nani asks if Harsh has started combing his own hair. Haha. Those were good times. But as school ended and I entered college, things started to change. I was still that innocent boy from school but everyone around me started to tell me things that were in their language off about me. For example, I would wear really lose clothes, so lose that my jeans appeared as track pants, I had hair so short that I didn’t need any combing most of the times, I dressed too simple. Getting into a college after a school is a completely different thing. For 17 years I had worn the same uniform everyday, except Tuesday and Friday that were Sports Day in my school. I never had to choose between how the clothes would match with one another or if they looked good on me. I never cared for how I looked because that wasn’t important for me. I remember on the first day of my college, it was the orientation day and I called my other friend to ask what we were to wear. Was there any dress-code or any uniform that we had to buy from a shop the college had recommended. I remember then asking my mother to take out clothes for me to wear that day. I was so nervous about the uniform that I kept on noticing the clothes of everyone around. That was new for me. Even frightening than the idea of a college. A college for me was another place to study. That was what I thought of what a college would be and also I had some ideas from the movie Main Hun Na. It had released some time back and I remember it vividly because that scene where Mr Shahrukh adjusts his hair and talks with his brother Mr Zayed Khan. I thought of college as a fun place. Moreover, Mr Zayed Khan had long hair in the movie which was also the factor I wanted long hair. Time passed and I adjusted through the college, made some friends and got involved in the daily routine. But now another challenge came up. Years of sitting at the table and no physical activity took a toll on my health and I was way too obese. I had adjusted myself to the usual mockery but maybe times had changed and I decided to do something about it. Six months and 24 kgs later I had transformed myself from this

To this….

I was much more confident than before and had started to grab some eyeballs. I now had started to get a haircut from the shops away from home. It was my friend who pushed me through it. I remember going in a Saloon my friend had recommended. The very formal setting of the saloon was new for me. I was greeted at the reception, then taken to the chair. Other person came to take me to wash my hair. I was clueless why he wanted to wash my hair before the haircut. I was taught that you always washed your hair after getting a haircut. He asked me to lie down on a sofa that had a washbasin attached to its other end. I lied down and the person started to wash my hair. He was kind enough to ask if the water wasn’t too hot or too cold. My hair was washed and I was taken to another sofa and the person who had to cut my hair came. He greeted me again and asked me what style I wanted. This was a big question and I remember looking back at my friend who was watching me. He quickly came near to me and said something to the barber and he started to cut it. The end result was pretty good and I was really excited. It was my first experience with such a costly haircut. That changed me. I still go there. Haha. The following was the result.

But still keeping long hair was a dream and still I wasn’t sure if I would be allowed in my home if i did something of that sort. Haha. However, I did start growing my hair. It was easy at first because I had to do nothing. They kept on growing and ai was involved in my daily classes. They grew to an extent then which was noticeable.

Some months later this came.

And then in some days as my parents left all hope of seeing me get a haircut, I thought why not give my beard a chance as well. Haha. I clicked this to see how bad I could look. Haha

I grew a little longer this than the one you see in the above picture. My parents had given up on me, my neighbours had started to ask me if I was growing my hair for some type of Mannat 😝😝 and my brother would pull my beard whenever he got the chance, mind you not the hair but the beard. Haha

The above two images were taken during my trip to Triund, a short trek from Mcleodganj, Himachal Pradesh. After coming back from this trip, I thought my affair with long hair had to go. Haha. I remember the face of mother and my father when I got a haircut. My mother kissed my forehead many times as if her boy had met her after a long time. Haha. The barber who was cutting my hair asked me atleast thrice if I wanted my hair that small, a picture I had showed him the way i wanted my hair. After a gap of about 3 years I took a haircut and it looked like this.

Everyone was delighted especially my parents. Haha. I kept this haircut for another year and then started growing them again. Haha. But this time it wasn’t so long. This is the most recent image. I kept growing them for six months straight.

But took a haircut this Friday, it was a little too fashionable for me. But I am glad I got it. This time again my barber who has been my barber for four years now, asked me the same. Bhaiya you want it so short. But this time he asked me once. Haha

I know many people who had started to read this post must have left a long time ago because it might come to some as I am boasting off. That’s an opinion and I respect all opinions. I have grown to acknowledge the opinions that come from other people that have made me grow as a person. Had I been full of ignorance the opinions would have never changed me. I have always respected the positive and negative comments that I have faced during my time. Sometimes some were too overwhelming for me but I have learnt which one to let me affect. I used to believe in inertia, that a person cannot change the situation that they are in and was too comfortable in that respective situation. However, the outside force, the society has been driving force for all my transformations. I am still pretty much the same boy who had left his school for college. I respect every being, love those who love me but still changed and still transforming. The growth process is organic. It learns from the environment around you, gives you feedback and may turn you into someone you can look up to or someone you might be scared from. The choice sometimes is ours, sometimes choices are forced on us. But generally the choices you take afterwards matter. The choices you would take the first time when you are presented with a situation. Should I help that elderly who is facing troubles changing a tyre in the middle of the road, should I raise my voice in an argument, will calling my server sir lower down my respect. The choice eventually lies with you and you will be the one who will have to live with the results, whether good or bad. Everything here what you have read are my way of telling you that it’s okay to be obese, to be not satisfied with your current situation because opportunities will come to you once you choose to let them in your lives. I had a choice to be obese for the rest of my life. I took a decision and implemented it. However, some days would come when you wouldn’t want to follow your dreams. Take rest in those days. Whatever weight I had lost I gained back again due to stress and many other factors. I had loosened my guard. And it’s perfectly fine because at the end we still are humans and humans make mistakes. I am still working on my other transformation but yes this time I am a lot more body positive than before. Believe me when I say this, if you believe that your body is changing it will change. I have lost 8 kgs in one month with this mindset and of course lots of exercise and diet.

So what was the motive of this post?

I just wanted to tell you, you are okay, you are perfect, the world is a twisted place. Don’t believe everything you hear or see. Try to trust your guts they are your most helpful friends. Don’t stop working on yourself. Try to find happiness in small things because that’s what I really do. Food from five star hotel may not sometimes satisfy you than a ₹5 burger from a stall you think is highly unhygienic. Trust me you’ll lose that extra pound, get that dream job or find a loving partner(I say this even for most of my life I have been single and still single. Haha. 😂😂) as long as you are working. Even if it means a step a day or crawling slowly. Nothing matters, what others opine about you or even what you think of yourselves. Once you start working on yourself everything will fall into background. This process mind you, is very addictive. You may leave it for sometime but eventually you will come back.

If I were to go back to that nervous Harsh back 9 years, the first day of his college, I would hug him and tell him that he will be okay. Each act of kindness creates a ripple in the sands of time that will stand the test of every sin committed or will be committed. I will tell him that it’s okay to not be a part of the herd and think differently. It’s okay not to disrespect someone for fun or litter even when no one’s watching. I would tell him to forgive himself for any mistakes he had committed or will commit but will tell him to learn from them, try to implement them in his life. Be kind to others but start with yourself. And most of all, I’ll ask him to find joy wherever he is at, trust in the process and that he will soon meet wonderful people that will become his family. Have faith.

And for those of you who have very kindly read till the last, please leave a comment. I would love to talk with you. 😇

With lots of love,

Kumar Harsh

Her, the complete story…..

It was a dark night. The dogs cried as something vociferous had just passed by them. Their unrest was felt even by the sleeping babies in cradles, the mothers who were tired and slept along with them, woke up to the sound of their babies crying. They immediately took their baby out from the cradle only to comfort them, rocking them to and fro, close to their chest, a mother’s warmth can do wonders, they say. But the babies won’t stop crying. This happened in every house in the small riverine town. Lights were lit across the town as everyone got up. The men of the house took out their torches and lit them with the courage they had to, their families meant everything to them, their families wanted them to protect them. They called out each other’s name as everyone was familiar with everyone in the town. It was a small town, closely knit, strongly held. What it could be in the middle of night, asked Mr Krazinsky. Maybe an owl had set the dogs howling, assumed Mr Reggie. Or it could be “Her”, an old, ancient voice came from the back of the gathering. But wasn’t she killed Mr Roary, said one of them. We never found her body. It was if she had vanished into thin air, said Mr Roary. Who is “Her”? a young boy had asked. His mother quickly lulled his voice. Shush, come back here. Don’t you have to sleep? But mother, I want to know who is “Her”? a curious little kid had just stunned some elders. They were silent for a moment. The sight of her was in their eyes. This night would be a long one, Mr Roary had remarked. The mothers quickly took their younger ones and they all went inside the already dilapidated church, where their prayers were answered, where the lost were found, where the dead were departed. The other half of the community, the women, held their hands together and started to pray. O Lord give us the strength, give us the strength to fight the unnatural, the devil is upon us, he is catching onto us, protect our babies, protect our husbands, brothers and fathers, protect us, help us. It was almost as if they had started to lose hope, prayer was the only thing that was keeping them sane. The men closed the doors. Bolt the door very firm, they said, we will knock five times when we want you to open, do not open the doors even if anyone calls your name, we will be alright as long as you don’t open the doors. They took their torches and every weapon they could find. Pitchforks, shovels and Mr Roary took out his gun, the only gun in town. What Shall we do? asked everyone from the elders. Let’s join hands and pray to the lord first to give us the strength to tackle “Her”. Let’s first move to the river, let’s see if the dam is intact. They cautiously moved towards the dam that was built even before Mr Roary. I wasn’t born when the dam was built, he would tell the children when they would try to ask him about his dam, while he smoked tobacco under the shade of the enormous Mango tree, that too was there before him. The kids would call Mr Roary ” The White Seal” as his teeth all his teeth had fallen down, his beard touched his chest and he barely moved. He was seen on most days near the Mango tree or near the dam. As if his routine was fixed, his focus points were two. The men slowly inched towards the dam. One of them carefully climbed down the dam to check for any damages. I don’t see any, he shouted from below. Did you find anything strange there? Mr Roary had asked. Nothing Sir, the man said. Wait! Wait!, there is a piece of cloth here. How does it look?, the temperatures were rising, the cold of the night had slipped under their noses, sleep ran away like a frightened rabbit. It looks old, torn in between, I cannot see, there isn’t much light. It’s HER. Mr Roary screamed. She was here. Quickly Alex, Shut down the valves, we shouldn’t drink the water. She must have poisoned it. She is indeed the Devil, She doesn’t need to live, Death to the witch, Burn in hell, the crowd had started chanting. The dull, scared faces now had an immense energy. Let’s find her and burn her and make a memory of her that our future generations will never forget.

Mr Roary took his gun in his hands and addressed the gathering, Today we shall free the village from the fear of her, Today we shall begin to live in peace, Today we will make her day end, We will burn her and dance on her grave. Let’s follow the any trails, bring out the dogs, let them smell the piece of cloth and let them guide us to her. Mr Krazinsky brought his ferocious dogs from his barn. They were so strong that two men had to hold one of them. These two puppies from the same mother had grown immensely, Mr Krazinsky had been feeding them all kinds of meat even before teeth had grown in their mouths. Mr Krazinsky and the other men took the piece of cloth that they had found in the dam close their noses. The dogs already anxious from all the energy of the crowd, quickly sniffed the cloth and immediately started growling and barking. They sense something sinister, Mr Roary remarked as he loaded his gun. Let them loose, he said, let’s see where they take us. But Mr Roary what if they get lost in the woods, they are very dear to me and my little girls, Mr Krazinsky was concerned about the dogs. He had made them since they were too young even to walk. Every day they would run to him when he would come back to the house from work, they would lick his face and his hands and jump in happiness on his glimpse. His daughters would sometimes dress the dogs in frocks so pretty that Mr Krazinsky would smile ear to ear. They’ll be fine, Mr Roary assured Mr Krazinsky, after all they are so powerful beasts of nature. With a heavy heart Mr Krazinsky let loose their leash and the dogs started running. Quick, follow them, they will lead us to her, the crowd had started to run after them. I’ll sit near the church for the women need to be protected, Mr Roary remarked. Carry on Lads, he had said. But what will we do if we find her, Mr Krazinsky asked Mr Roary. You’ll be fine as long as you don’t let her touch you, she fears fire and the pitchforks will keep her at bay, Just catch her and bring her to me, I’ll know what to do, Mr Roary took a chair, took out his cigar and sat on the door of the Church. The dogs are getting away, a voice in the crowd remarked. Let’s go, Mr Krazinsky quickly started to follow his dogs. The dogs were loyal enough to sense that their owner was coming for them, they stopped at the entrance of the forest and waited for their owner. Mr Krazinsky patted their heads and they started walking, sniffing the air and the soil on the ground. The forest had been off limits for every citizen of the village because they had always feared of what was in the woods. Since they were little babies their mothers and their mothers before them had told them stories of giants that would eat human heads for breakfast or werewolves that would look like humans but would change into flesh eating beasts as long as dusk settled in. Nobody dared to set foot in the woods, they all celebrated life and the little joys of life. The forest was since a abode for the vagabonds, the outlaws that weren’t ever accepted in the society that the village had grown to become. There was no marking of any path, everywhere grass had covered the soil, the algae on others that were moist. Everyone started to chant their prayers as they slowly moved inside, following Mr Krazinsky and his dogs. Atta Boys, he would say every time they stopped for him as he was left behind. Slow Down Mr Krazinsky, the people following him would remark, you are going too fast. Be Quick, Mr Krazinsky would say, we have to end this today. They got deeper and deeper into the woods. The forest untouched by any human presence looked serene and beautiful. Wild roses had grown on the trees that had fallen, the river flowing was so clear that you could see the fishes swimming in it, the thick canopy of the trees almost didn’t let any moonlight in, although it was enough for them to see each other’s faces. I don’t think we will find her today, its already too late, she must be asleep, I too want to sleep, a voice remarked. Let’s go back to our families, we have kids to feed, a family to take care of, let’s do this in the day. Everyone had started to feel tired and scared. They all wanted to go back to their families, it was hard for them to accept that they too were scared from all this commotion. I am going back to my family, if anyone wants to follow, they are most welcome, Mr Littlefish had remarked. But, we have to find her before it’s too late, Mr Krazinsky said. Why don’t you carry on? You would be enough for her with both your dogs and the strength you have doing farming. I am just a shopkeeper, I Don’t know how long will I last in-front of her, Mr Littlefish turned back and started walking. Very Well, Whoever wants to stay and fight with me, let’s find her. Mr Krazinsky was stunned to see just a handful people standing with him. Only his most trusted allies, his friends who had been there during his thick and thin. We should go back Shawn, his friends said, it’s not safe, we don’t know what her powers are, we don’t even have a gun, they tried to reason with Mr Krazinsky. I understand your concern, Mr Krazinsky said, but I don’t want to live in fear of her for rest of my life, I don’t want to become Mr Roary. I am following my dogs and if my righteousness permits I shall be conqurous tonight. Mr Krazinsky kept on following his dogs, who never left their owner behind. A few steps in the forest and the dogs stopped walking. They had stopped sniffing and immediately ran back to their owner. What is it Boy, asked Mr Krazinsky as he looked towards his front. There was a house in the middle of the forest that was made entirely of wood, a small vegetable garden was carefully laid near to it, some chickens also sleeping in cages next to the garden. Help Me O Lord, I have found Her, Mr Krazinsky said as he took out his pitchfork and in a position of attention carefully started to move towards the house. His dogs having already sensed a danger followed suit. The house had no lights in it, as if it wore a mask to protect itself. As he walked closer to the house, he felt a tinge on his neck, a cry of the dogs and he fell unconscious to the ground. The smell of burning wood woke him up. He was tied to the tree outside the house and his dogs were caged. They had started to wake up and seeing locked up, started to cry. Don’t worry boys, I’ll get you out of here. That’s when he saw her. Dressed in an old evening gown, she had long hairs that due to years of neglect had entangled among themselves, her face had wrinkles and she could barely stand upright if it was not for the stick she held. Who are you and what are you doing here? She asked in a voice calm. Mr Krazinsky already in a state of shock, couldn’t believe what he saw. She was just an old lady who maybe couldn’t harm anyone. I have come from the village, we had heard stories about you, that you want all of us dead, that you want to take our children and make them your slaves, that you poisoned the dam waters so that the entire village could die and you could feed on their soul, you are the devil, you are the living image of the devil. The lady smirked at Mr Krazinsky because this wasn’t the first time she had heard anyone say that about her. Will you harm me, she asked him. I won’t if you will not harm me, Mr Krazinsky said. She picked up the freshly cut chicken and fed it to the dogs who quickly gobbled up the little cut up pieces. Do You want water? I haven’t poisoned it. She drank it first to assure Mr Krazinsky that it was safe. She carefully fed the water to him. I am sorry that I had to hit you and your dogs with darts. I didn’t know what you might do to me. I had looked around to ensure that you were all alone. Mr Krazinsky still couldn’t believe what he was hearing or seeing. It’s too late to be venturing in this forest. There are poisonous vines that will kill you in blink of an eye, jaguars that will feed on your flesh, she said while heating up a pot. We villagers had come to find and kill you, Mr Krazinsky told the woman. Very well, shall I untie you then, you have a job to do, she said as she grabbed a knife that lay around her. She came near to him and cut his ropes. Mr Krazinsky still weak from the tranquilliser couldn’t get up. If I were you, I wouldn’t get up. She said as she opened the gates of his dogs. The dogs came out wagging their tails and started kissing the woman. Mr Krazinsky was shocked as this was the first time his dogs did that to a stranger. The dogs quickly saw their master and did the same to him.

Here have this, What’s in this, Mr Krazinsky said, it’s just tea, she remarked.

Why didn’t you kill me, Mr Krazinsky was now curious as his whole belief system had started to fall.

You were the only one that followed your dogs and your dogs that followed you, she said. I haven’t seen a connection in time so long, she said. Moreover, the only thing I can kill here in these woods is time and my own mind. I have been living here for God knows how long.

So, the stories about are they all lies. I don’t know what you have heard or from whom you have heard it. They conversed.

How did you end up here? Why do villagers say those thing about you?

Well, my memory betrays me, it was so long that I had lived in a civilisation. But I do remember some bits. I had a father and a mother who thought way ahead of their times. My father was the first person to be educated in the village and he became a doctor. He could earn well and live in the city but he chose to work and help his fellow villagers. He set up a small clinic and very soon he was known around the village for his unconventional methods of treating people. He believed in prayers along with the efficacy of modern medicine. His supplies would come from the city on the horse cart, the driver of which soon became an admirer of my father. The driver had a daughter who he married to my father. My mother was a brilliant young woman and at a time when women were supposed to do the household chores, she learnt medicine and with my father started to work in the clinic. This seriously injured the ego of many around the village, especially the old priests that did nothing except making their subjects fall in the hands of God. I was my parents first born. My birth was celebrated in the village with a feast which wasn’t attended by any soul, as told by my parents. My parents right from the start had started to give me all their knowledge and very soon I was too an educated woman, way ahead of my times. Other parents started to keep their children away from me as they thought I would be a bad influence as I talked about stars, astronomy, the healing power of plants and why thinking logically is the way to go. As I got older, I could see how we were turned into outcastes and one day the water fell off the brim. I remember sleeping peacefully on the first floor when I smelled smoke. My father quickly came running and wrapped me in a blanket. He took me in his arms and we ran to the exit. Where is mother? I remember crying and asking him. He didn’t reply. The doors had been bolted from the front and they didn’t open. We will die, I shrivelled with fear as my father held me close to his chest. He ran off to the roof so as to jump. The villagers had surrounded the house and the head priest was chanting his verses. My father didn’t know what to do. He jumped from the roof of our house and broke a leg. Run Emily, Run, Don’t Look Back, Run to the forest. He screamed until his voice had turned silent. I could hear footsteps coming nearer and nearer. I ran and ran till I entered the forest, the villagers didn’t enter the forest for they knew I couldn’t survive alone in that treacherous forest. I was a child that time. But was intelligent enough to know that I cannot ever go back to the village. I was dead for them and they were dead for me. The first few days in the forest were difficult. I had to hunt for food and shelter but the forest was kind to me.

Mr Krazinsky had tears in his eyes as he heard her story. I am sorry. I am sorry for the acts of my ancestors and those of my fellow villagers. Nobody deserves to be deprived of the love of their parents, no one deserves to live a life so disregarding. I am sorry that we failed you as humans. We didn’t deserve you and your parents. Mr Krazinsky had broken down, maybe the effects of the tranquilizer hadn’t wore down.

It’s okay, she said. Her broken teeth had started to show from the weak smile she had. I have made my peace with it. She sighed. Why did you tell me all of this? You were the only one who asked me who I was. I have been always addressed to as the witch, the devil’s friend, the worshipper of Satan. Also, I absolutely love dogs, they have been my greatest ally in this forest. But not the dogs in your village, for some reason they do hate me. She laughed. I wanted to do so much more for the community I was born in but. She stopped. She didn’t want to explain herself more. It was enough suffering for one lifetime.

What will you do now when you back to your village? She asked Mr Krazinsky. I would tell them about you, you deserve to live your remaining life in a civilisation. I am humbled you think this way, but I believe this is what that’s best for me. She said. Please leave whenever you feel like, or the villagers might come looking for you. I don’t think they will. They still fear the forest. Mr Krazinsky sipped his tea. I’ll just take a short nap and then return back. Mr Krazinsky said. Then get inside the house, you wouldn’t want the mosquitoes to bite, they are poisonous. Where would you sleep, he asked, I have a place, don’t you worry. She closed the doors behind her. I’ll chain your dogs so that they don’t run away. Mr Krazinsky lied down on the cot made of wood and slept. The cry of roaster woke him up and it was already morning. I overslept, he remarked and went outside. He was stunned to find his friends looking for him.

Oh you are here, we were looking for you since the morning. They saw him. Wait, but what were you doing in her house. He is not him, she has taken his form. You Devil, you killed our friend, they started to beat Mr Krazinsky as his dogs cried.  Die you Evil Woman, May you burn in hell.

Mr Krazinsky had started to lose consciousness and soon he slipped into oblivion. Let’s put her into the house and burn her. They dragged Mr Krazinsky and sparked a fire into the house. Burn you Witch. Burn. Mr Krazinsky had started to feel the heat when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Emily was there, she dragged her in through a smoke bomb she had made while she lived. She took him on hand pulled cart and deep down in the valley. Mr Krazinsky slowly opened his eyes to see the house burning. His friends dancing in joy, We have killed the witch, We have Burned the Witch, We Saved the village. Mr Krazinsky opened his eyes the next day and saw his wounds covered up. Emily was sitting there and making ointments for his pain. It’s okay, she said. It took Mr Krazinsky months to recover because of which he was now aware of the ways of the forest. I shall go back, my family still needs me. They won’t ever believe if you are what you used to be. I need to go, I want my family. Very well then, Emily said, you should leave. She said him goodbyes and Mr Krazinsky wore the same clothes he had worn the day his friends tried to burn him, he went to the village next day. The villagers were astonished. Mr Roary was standing there, Wait stop right there, he pointed his gun at him. Tell me who you are. I am Shawn, Mr Roary. But she had killed you. No Mr Roary, she only took my form, I was chained back in her other lair, he said. As soon as my friends killed her, I was free from her, but I was so wounded that I couldn’t move for days. Glad to have you back Shawn. Welcome Home, Mr Roary had lowered his gun. Mr Krazinsky straight away ran to his home. His wife had started to work in the fields and his daughters were working in the house. He couldn’t find his dogs. His heart sank. His wife as soon as she saw him, came running to him and kissed him. Her kiss felt like heaven. The daughters jumped on their father as he swayed them with joy. Where were you? What had happened? Are you Okay? They asked. I am fine, everything is fine. How have you been? Where are the dogs? Mr Krazinsky asked. We are fine now that you are here. They never found the dogs. Your friends said that the witch ate them. Mr Krazinsky was on his knees now. He wanted to cry but tears didn’t drop. I have to tell something to you, we are leaving the village. But why, his wife and daughters asked. Do you trust me? He said. With all our heart, they responded. So pack whatever is necessary, we leave as soon as we can. It was difficult to part with their land and the cattle as rumours had tainted Mr Krazinsky’s image. But he settled for anything he got. His friends came to see him but he couldn’t see now why he was friends with them in the first place. Done with everything, they started to move away from the land where lay their identity. Mr Krazinsky took their cart and slowly steered it away from the village as some came to bid them goodbye. The cart moved in the direction of the city but something came in Mr Krazinsky’s mind, he moved it towards the forest. There’s something I want you all to see. What are you doing? Asked the frightened wife and the daughters. Trust me on this. He said. He slowly took the cart to Emily’s cottage and stopped the cart at her door. His wife came down along with him. I want you to meet Emily, she was the one who saved your husband. Whatever you might hear or whatever you might have heard, she was the one who brought me back from the dead. His wife hugged Emily as both of them cried their hearts out. I want you to come with us, said Mr Krazinsky as he held back his tears. I would be honoured to. Emily said. Wait one moment, I have a surprise for you. She went to the back of the cottage, whistled and came running the two most special friends to Mr Krazinsky. His dogs had returned. He was now crying and sobbing like a little girl. You love them more than me, his wife remarked laughing hysterically.



How did you like this story? Please do share your opinions. I would be really glad to know how you, the reader feels about this story.


It was a dark night. The dogs cried as something vociferous had just passed by them. Their unrest was felt even by the sleeping babies in cradles, the mothers who were tired and slept along with them, woke up to the sound of their babies crying. They immediately took their baby out from the cradle only to comfort them, rocking them to and fro, close to their chest, a mother’s warmth can do wonders, they say. But the babies won’t stop crying. This happened in every house in the small riverine town. Lights were lit across the town as everyone got up. The men of the house took out their torches and lit them with the courage they had to, their families meant everything to them, their families wanted them to protect them. They called out each other’s name as everyone was familiar with everyone in the town. It was a small town, closely knit, strongly held. What it could be in the middle of night, asked Mr Krazinsky. Maybe an owl had set the dogs howling, assumed Mr Reggie. Or it could be “Her”, an old, ancient voice came from the back of the gathering. But wasn’t she killed Mr Roary, said one of them. We never found her body. It was if she had vanished into thin air, said Mr Roary. Who is “Her”? a young boy had asked. His mother quickly lulled his voice. Shush, come back here. Don’t you have to sleep? But mother, I want to know who is “Her”? a curious little kid had just stunned some elders. They were silent for a moment. The sight of her was in their eyes. This night would be a long one, Mr Roary had remarked. The mothers quickly took their younger ones and they all went inside the already dilapidated church, where their prayers were answered, where the lost were found, where the dead were departed. The other half of the community, the women, held their hands together and started to pray. O Lord give us the strength, give us the strength to fight the unnatural, the devil is upon us, he is catching onto us, protect our babies, protect our husbands, brothers and fathers, protect us, help us. It was almost as if they had started to lose hope, prayer was the only thing that was keeping them sane. The men closed the doors. Bolt the door very firm, they said, we will knock five times when we want you to open, do not open the doors even if anyone calls your name, we will be alright as long as you don’t open the doors. They took their torches and every weapon they could find. Pitchforks, shovels and Mr Roary took out his gun, the only gun in town. What Shall we do? asked everyone from the elders. Let’s join hands and pray to the lord first to give us the strength to tackle “Her”. Let’s first move to the river, let’s see if the dam is intact. They cautiously moved towards the dam that was built even before Mr Roary. I wasn’t born when the dam was built, he would tell the children when they would try to ask him about his dam, while he smoked tobacco under the shade of the enormous Mango tree, that too was there before him. The kids would call Mr Roary ” The White Seal” as his teeth all his teeth had fallen down, his beard touched his chest and he barely moved. He was seen on most days near the Mango tree or near the dam. As if his routine was fixed, his focus points were two. The men slowly inched towards the dam. One of them carefully climbed down the dam to check for any damages. I don’t see any, he shouted from below. Did you find anything strange there? Mr Roary had asked. Nothing Sir, the man said. Wait! Wait!, there is a piece of cloth here. How does it look?, the temperatures were rising, the cold of the night had slipped under their noses, sleep ran away like a frightened rabbit. It looks old, torn in between, I cannot see, there isn’t much light. It’s HER. Mr Roary screamed. She was here. Quickly Alex, Shut down the valves, we shouldn’t drink the water. She must have poisoned it.
This is a small piece I just wrote after a long time, would really love your feedback on this. I’ll continue this story as the reader, you may want. Your inputs are highly valuable.

Hello There, Again…!!

It’s been long since I have been so active on WordPress. I was busy at many places so much so that my blog did take a hit. Writing everyday now has allowed me to know a people, I might have not known if it was not for this blog. I have been nominated for some awards lately and I was not able to give them the proper attention that they deserved. Awards are a fun activity on this platform that through which we bloggers can know about others a little more and introduce our own-selves. I remember getting my first award and I was on cloud nine. I used to think that there would be a big ceremony for me to be given an award. Good Times. Through this activity I got the opportunity to know some wonderful people who with in time I became really good friends.

Recently, some gifted writers did accord me a reward, a reward of knowing them more closely than ever. I would like to mention their names-

I had left doing awards a long time back, but it was really Cindy Georgakas  who pushed me really hard to do this. She is really a warm and kind person. Glad to know you Cindy. You really make this sphere a better place. 🙂

Coming to me, I have been around this platform for six years now. I have done a similar post in the past you might want to check out. Hello There..!!

Six years is a long time if you look at it. My starting years in blogging were mostly mundane and unnoticed. But they say good things do take time. I have sticked with writing since then and have gathered some very unique experiences over the period of time. I have met people on this platform as far as the United States of America and some citizens of my own country. WordPress is a world in itself and it does accept whatever or whoever you are. Your identity is your blog and how you treat others who visit you. People don’t judge you here for what you write or what you say. One is allowed to have their own opinion which matters a lot considering the outside world, your opinion might not be taken kindly to. One can be anyone here, a writer, a poet, an illustrator or even be a cook. Nothing really matters here as long as you are enjoying the journey. There is no competition here nor do people overstep their boundaries, because WordPress is a sacred grove for the all the recluses of the world. The voices take shape in the form of words and pour in our screens. People appreciate the written word here, not the appearance we keep for the outside world. You may even fall in love with the words of a writer or a poet or even a poetess because that’s the power of words. They can destroy you or uplift you. The choice is entirely yours.

Apart from writing, I try to indulge in playing my guitar. Although sometimes I even play violin and Harmonium. I have a penchant for learning new instruments and languages. I know five languages although I am fluent in only three. The next language on my list is Arabic, because I find it mystical and beautiful. Even the calligraphy in Arabic is so artistic that I sometimes just stare at the written words. Moreover, I like taking pictures and most of the times when I don’t have my camera, my Phone comes in handy. Every Image you see on my blog has been taken by me. This pandemic also brought a new hobby to my list of hobbies and that is cooking. I never knew I could love cooking so much. Although, I still cannot make round Chapatis.

I am answering here the questions was asked by my fellow bloggers. Hope you all find this worth your reading.

These Questions were asked to me by Rishika Kakar

  • What is your favourite book?
  • Well if I have to be honest, I don’t read that much. I mean to but most of the times other things take preference. I do like to be read to. But if I really have to pick one book, I’ll say it is “My Experiments with Truth” by The father of the nation, Mahatma Gandhi.
  • Where do you see yourself in 10 years?
  • I have many plans for my Upcoming ten years. The nearest one would be to be in a position such as to help others who might need my help. I feel empathy is the biggest gift given to humans. Being of use to the fellow humans and all the living beings around us is my biggest goal.
  • What did you want to be as a child and what did you end up becoming/want to be now?
  • I really wanted to be a pilot when I was a child. The whooshing sound of an aircraft passing through the sunlit skies always garnered my attention. I will be very soon joining the Income Tax Department in the Government of India. Although my goal as said above, is much wider than the current scope of my job.
  • Do you believe in fate and the Universe?
  • I do believe in the Universe and that every being has been set on a path that he/she in due course of time defines for them. I used to believe in fate and that a good fate or a bad fate may make you fall or makes you successful. But of lately, I have started to believe in the power of hard-work and how it can change your fate and the fate of all those around you.
  • What is the first thing you think of when you wake up?
  • The first thing I usually think when I wake up is that if I have overslept. Haha. And also what would have been made for breakfast. I really love food and a good sleep. Jokes aside, my first thought usually in the morning is the one i had slept with the night before. I am a big overthinker and tend to imagine situations which may or may not happen.
  • What drives you to push through everyday?
  • I wake up every morning and i see the faces of people who i love and who love me. My parents, my brother and my two wonderful dogs. They smile at me and my day is made, it feels like I am successful in that very moment. I want to see them smiling forever and that makes me push everyday.
  • What does success mean to you?
  • Success for me would be attaining peace. The day I can say that now I shall rest, no need to compete or work really hard. I’ll call myself successful.


  • Your greatest regret?
  • My greatest regret would be loving too much sometimes. I tend to give all of me for people or none at all. There’s no middle. That becomes a conundrum for me, most of the times because when you give 100% to a person or cause, you tend to attachments.
  • What is your favourite ice cream flavor?
  • My favourite ice cream flavour is anything that has chocolate in it. And if it has choco chips, I cannot skip that one. I really like Mississippi Mud in Baskin and Robbins, Cookies and Cream in Amul and also ice creams with brownie in them.
  • Are you happy?
  • The climate around me had had me believe that happiness lies in the job of your choice or a person that you might adore. My this belief system came thrashing down when I spent some years alone, away from all my loved ones and in complete isolation. I have experienced much to understand this that happiness will never be a destination. It’s really about finding happiness in little things that we do everyday. Like in my case, I really like to sing and write. I never had any formal training. I always wanted a guitar. One day I just went to a shop a brought me one. Taught myself to play and still learning. Happiness for me is finding joy in small things. This definition might change in the future. But currently, yes I am happy. I try everyday not to be affected. But somedays bad days do get to you.
  • What is your favourite TV show?
  • This one is a tricky question. I have watched so many. My favourite ones would be old school romcoms, especially How I Met Your Mother and Friends. Moreover, The Big Bang Theory is an all time favourite. The emotional roller coaster that this show takes you on, is really liberating.

These Questions were asked to me by  Cindy Georgakas.

  • What do you hope to accomplish with your writing?
    Well I always have been very shy about expressing my emotions especially when it comes to speaking. Writing becomes my only way to best express myself. With my writing, I want to give words to the thoughts that go inside my head 😇and maybe other people’s thoughts as well.


  • If you had one day left on earth what would you do and who would you spend it with?
    I have always wanted to sing on the stage for the people who like me for what I am. As stated before, I am too shy to do that. If It was my last day on Earth, I would want to sing in a stadium full of people I love and those who love me.


  • Who or what is your biggest Inspiration?
    My biggest inspiration has always been my parents. I consider myself to be an atom of their talent and their thoughts. Most of my actions are directed to make them happy. But some aren’t . 😅😝


  • Why did you start writing?
    I am particularly new to writing. It was in 2014 when while writing something for my friend, my other friend noticed my writing skills. I had started this blog then only. I haven’t been away from writing since. The love and support of many people just like you has kept me going. 😇


  • What are you most proud of yourself for?
    I have grown and matured into a much better person than I was five years ago. I am really proud of that.


  • What is your most vivid memory?
    I have many. Haha. But my favourite one would be me and my brother coming back from school and throwing our bags on the bed and taking off our clothes and swinging it across the dining table, our mother running after us and dad scolding us. Also, sleeping next to my grandmother and the way she used to tell us stories. 😇


  • If you had to be any animal in the world, what would it be and why?
    I would really like to be a blue whale. They are some of the most beautiful creatures and they swim in the ocean. I have a phobia of the ocean and whales awe me with their calm nature. They don’t harm anything or anyone, just travel around the world. I could also be a flamingo. They travel hundreds and hundreds of miles and stay with their partners for their life. They are the most loyal creatures.

These Questions were asked to me by Nawazish

  1. Which country do you reside in?
    I Live in India. More specifically the northern part of the country, Punjab.
  2. A place you visit to calm your mind or heal yourself.
    We have a popular place around my inhabitation, called the Sukhna Lake. I really love visiting it whenever I get too away from myself. Also, I live near to many mountains, I prefer driving up-to them whenever I get the chance.
  3. Your favorite movie and why?
    I have many favourite movies. I have grown watching Harry Potter movies and still whenever its on, I cannot skip them. I really love the Harry Potter series. Also, some movies such as the Green Mile, Django Unchained, The Shawshank Redemption, The Shutter Island are also among some of my favourites.
  4. A memory from childhood that is very close to your heart.
    I remember whenever it rained, me and my brother would run to the balcony of our home and bathe in the rains. We loved splashing our feet in the puddles of water and making paper boats and letting them sail in the rain water. I also remember how we always ended up getting cold and runny nose, along with a strict beating by our mother.
  5. You prefer beaches or mountains?
    My love for mountains is evergreen. Me and my friends always run to the hills whenever we get a chance. We do love a good trek and the driving through the mountainous routes. I also sometimes do like beaches, but only if they aren’t crowded. Mountains awe me always. Standing so tall for centuries together, they let us pass through them, make roads on them, let us settle on them. My respect for them is infinite.
  6. What makes you really agree?
    It doesn’t take me much to agree to a point because I have learnt to stop arguing. If I find that a particular task requires me to be silent, I’ll stay silent. However, if you really want me to do something, get me good food and I’ll do whatever you want. haha.
  7. What do you look out in any relationship you form?
    I have grown so much in the years that now that I really care for in a relationship is trust, honesty and respect. These three stand above anything else for me. If there is trust in a relationship, you won’t need to look out for your partner because you know whatever decision they take would be the best for you and them. Respect is something that also cannot be ignored. I believe you respect a person whenever you find in him/her the qualities that you always have looked up to. For example, caring attitude, respect for those not so fortunate, thinking about others before taking any rash decisions. Honesty is one of the best virtues I find about a person. I have been told many times how I cannot lie and the people around me know this for a fact that I am very bad at lying. My partner should be honest with me, even if sometimes it means my feelings or hers would be affected because I believe the two partners in a relationship can and will come out of any differences.
  8. What would you change about yourself, if you get a chance?
    I have been told many times that I care too much. So much so that it affects me in ways that are destructive to me. It’s either 100% or 0% for me. I don’t work in between. If I love you, there is no stopping me from showing you how much you mean for me. You’ll be my world and I’ll be your moon, revolving around you. I am a hopeless romantic. This sometimes becomes overwhelming for some.
  9. What’s your favorite way to spend a day off?
    It would definitely be driving through mountains or driving anywhere at all. I love driving and visiting new places. Also, I love to decorate my home and if not driving, I’ll be making something that I had found lying useless around the house.
  10. Do you consider yourself to be an introvert, extrovert or an ambivert?
    I am an introvert most of the times. Until some drops of any intoxicants get in. I won’t talk to you in person as long as you take the initiative. This comes as being rude to some, but I am used to it now.
  11. Which was the last TV series you binge- watched?
    I binge watched Paatal Lok last. Really loved the acting of all the actors, especially Jaideep Ahlawat.


I really hope my answers were helpful.

I would really like to know what you, the reader feels about my answers.

Leave a comment down below and I’ll be happy to answer your questions.

Let’s have a conversation.

Thank You again to Rishika, Cindy and Nawazish.




He had made islands,
On the turf of his thoughts,
Some islands had lavish orchards and farms,
Others were dilapidated,
Dying, slowly sinking,
Stretched infinitely,
He would let many see his islands prosperous,
That had civilisations so great,
Thoughts beyond their time,
But never the ones,
That had cemeteries,
Dead roamed even in the light of the day,
Ghosts of past feasted on the fresh grass,
He was wary, sceptical, didn’t trust no one,
For many had seen those ruins,
And created their own monuments,
Maybe with time they will sink,
He would tell himself,
But centuries had passed,
Or maybe a thousand years,
He had forgotten when they even had sprouted,
When nights would be long,
His ship would slowly crawl back to those islands,
He would scream but none came for help,
No one knew the way,
The light would bring him peace,
Or the guitar hanging on his wall,
Days passed by and his sails were about to fall,
A sailor lost in her own thoughts,
One day stumbled upon him,
While he had let his guard down,
And took him to the islands,
She had created,
The ones they had nurtured,
Centuries had passed,
Or maybe a thousand years,
He had forgotten how he ended up there,
When he saw his ship,
Tethered to the land,
The sailor, she said,
Let’s take this for a spin,
He anchored the ship towards the islands,
That had cemeteries,
Dead roamed even in the light of the day,
Ghosts of past feasted on the fresh grass,
And as the ship slowly kissed the shore,
He saw nothing there,
Cemeteries were buried beneath the grass,
That grew hundreds of feets high,
Little butterflies roamed around,
The sweet sound of birds singing had filled the ground,
The monuments had turned to dust,
The islands had healed,
He cried as she held his hands,
I never thought this would ever happen,
She cried too,
As she had forgotten her own islands,
What is today may not be tomorrow,
She said in his ears,
Dead eventually take their rest,
The ghosts vanish into thin air,
Lets go,
We’ll come back someday later,
Or maybe never ever,
She had said,
Let these islands finally rest……

The fire met the ocean….

As the winter set foot in the horizon,
The cold breeze of December gushing through the plains,
A song was about to play,
An act about to begin,
The routine was the order of the day,
But that day a vagabond wind had struck them in their peace,
A quick glance at each other,
All hell had broken loose,
The Universe shrunk,
So did their Space,
And as he lifted her in his arms,
Winter had started to retreat,
Just like when a Volcano meets an Ocean,
And turns her into steam,
The doors of her bedroom called their name,
Pulling them away from reality,
The present, the past, the future,
Time had lost all its meaning,
The room was their purple rose,
He carefully lay down her,
Onto the bed,
The bed that had their footprints,
Their marks, their scent,
The darkness had engulfed the sky,
Their room lit by their fire,
Shall I devour you tonight,
He had whispered in her soft ears,
As she lay helplessly on the bed,
She let escape a sigh of warm air,
That tickled his ears,
It was enough,
Enough to wake up thundering storms,
The sheets were a witness to the act,
The air had gone thin,
Senselessness and sensations ran amok,
Till they were out of breath,
They lied down besides each other,
As their breath started to come to them,
And looked into each others eyes,
The thunder grasped their hearts,
Swindled it through their chests,
And landed it on their lips,
That had locked for eternities in surreal bliss,
The storms had now subsided,
As she closed her eyes to sleep,
While he still adored her,
The greatest reward he could ever get,
Night slowly turned into day,
Their footprints still on the bed……..

The Red Sun….

The winds were few that day,
The clouds had forgotten to stroll,
The Sun was ruthless,
Scorched the Earth with his heat,
The small, minuscle running to find relief,
We are burning, the heat is too much to bear,
They gnarled among themselves,
The Sun still burning with rage,
Didn’t batter his eye,
Let me destroy, burn, crush,
He had for a second forgotten,
Life is living because of him,
The heat comforts the cold,
The light chases away the dark,
All that anger impaired his righteous judgement,
As life began to crumble down,
Trees lost all their green,
The fishes their home,
The fields their gold,
Mars, Saturn and Jupiter,
Requested the Sun,
Stop this, Stop this Madness,
Remember how you had loved,
The Sun pushed them away,
Deep in through the space,
The Earth had turned grey,
And into a glowing ball of fire,
The Sun stopped as the fire within him turned to a spark,
What have I done,
Came down thundering now a useless scream,
The Earth now looked at him,
Closed her eyes,
And with the last of her breath,
Said the Sun the last goodbyes……

The Ocean….

As the ocean covers my face,
The currents carrying me to places,
Deep, cold, strange,
I try to gasp for air,
Its a privilege to breathe,
The air touches my nose,
And runs away like a scared flock of birds,
Apprehensive of what might come,
My legs have already numbed,
The hands struggling for a piece of land,
Oh, that would be the heavens,
My mind plays games with me,
I see the Sun and I see my life,
The old, past, present,
The experienced, the lost and the forgotten,
The salt in the ocean assimilated in my blood,
Makes me sink,
The trenches call my name,
So do the sailors long resting on the sand,
Their ships their holy grail,
Dilapidated, deteriorating, home to fishes,
The bottom of the ocean seems nearer and nearer,
I am flying, sinking, falling,
Senses have decepted me once again,
And as I close my eyes to let the water fill up my lungs,
A distant symphony tickles my ears,
A Siren, a mermaid maybe something magical,
I am lifted up through the blue waters,
Onto something hard,
Something real, phosphorus,
The body tries to eject the water it had taken in,
It coughs hard, belches the salt out from its system,
The brain tries to regain its consciousness,
I look around,
The deserted island doesn’t seem to have any life,
Except me,
The Siren had gone,
Leaving me to myself,
The island and the little shrubs that it could handle,
The Siren had gone,
And I was left to live,
The numbered days I had left,
The Sun maybe an enemy now……..

The Man…..

The winds were calm that day,
The sun still in its cradle,
Jogging along the usual path,
Music blasting in his ears,
He stopped for tea,
Who are you running from,
A voice had asked from behind him,
Someone too wise for his years,
Smiled at him,
The freckles on his face had their own stories,
A cigarette in one hand,
A cup of tea in other,
Sorry, I didn’t get you,
He answered,
The man smiled again,
Finished his tea,
Rubbed the cigarette on the floor,
One day you’ll have to stop running,
Run away,
Run to it,
Or let it stay,
The man got up,
Winked at him,
And jogged away……

The Cigarette….

He walked down the path,
Engrossed in his phone,
The one that rarely chimed,
Stopped at the corner,
To click a photo,
Sat there,
The little steps coming out of a closed shop,
Took out a cigarette to smoke away,
His insecurities, the pain, the sufferings,
Some responsibilities too,
Some memories too,
Puff by puff the cigarette lost its form,
The man slowly losing consciousness,
Took out his phone again,
Dialled a number,
Stopped even before it rang,
The man puffed the last of the cigarette,
Rubbed it against the hard floor,
Looked at the dustbin in front of him,
And with the aim of a professional basketballer,
Threw it inside,
And watched it slowly mix with the garbage already there,
He dialled the number back again,
This time letting it ring,
Who’s this?
Asked an unfamiliar voice,
Sorry, wrong number,
He had said…..

Social Story….

The night had just started. Hi, a notification popped in her phone. Often it was her phone that would wake her from her sleep. Sleep that would elude her when she desired. The message seemed familiar, the ones she was usually frequented with, lurking behind the shadows of promiscuity and lust, she was aware of the pattern. Her hopes had died the day a message that turned into a wild drug, an addiction that usually pervades those in distress. Maybe I should ignore, she said to herself. But there was this deep curiosity inside her that took over her hands. She typed hello and with the cold response she was used to giving to people of all sorts, her reply ended. I was wondering if you could give me a suggestion on the ways to write a book. This time it felt genuine. But she did abstain from replying too soon. Maybe the years of neglect and being taken for granted had taught her, maybe it was something else. She tried to absolve herself in her daily chores, but the thought stick in her head. Just like song that you don’t know the lyrics of. You can have a look at these articles, she typed sharing along some that had helped her too. She was lost in the thoughts when she had begun her journey of penning down her thoughts. The adrenaline rush of a beautiful poem, the serenity of the mind, the calmness of the sea. It all hit her at once. The food in her stomach began to boil, an uneasiness crippled her body. Thank you. Her phone chimed again. It was him. I was really worried about how to begin. I’ll trouble you again. I hope that’s okay. The message read. Sure. She had typed. The night had started to cool down as the dark descended into oblivion. An emoji came from him. She saw the emoji. The one maybe she hadn’t seen before. She put the phone down, trying to concentrate on her work that had been keeping her sane for sometime now. For long she had been subjected to flattery as the world around her put her on a pedestal. The world, this slowly degenerating collection of thoughts and processes that had claimed her to be a little too open for their own amusement. A woman can do whatever she wants unless she stays in the mould that has been created for her since centuries. She must be timid, bashful, easily manipulated. Being born, married, birthing and then death. This was her life cycle. Appreciation was distant to her, acknowledgment unknown. Her thoughts had changed in her early years. Her best friends were her books. They would talk to her, help her sleep without the intent of nothing but to appreciate her. Not just the beauty of her face, the body which she possessed but the mind that had nurtured into an organic system of brilliant ideas. Since long, she had preferred
the veil of her screens than the merciless scorching eyes of the world. Done with her work, she lay down on her bed to sleep. But sleep had betrayed her even before the betrayal of many other kinds. The heart had stopped beating irregularly. Just the rhythmic cycle of her heart was that that kept her moving. Emotions had become a sour patch, nicotine that would mess with her mind. Be logical, she had told herself every time a situation came that would need her decision. This time wasn’t any different. She closed her eyes again and tried to sleep, listening to the melodies ancient. The dark had engulfed the night completely and maybe her too. The night had just begun…..

Can we really call ourselves human?

Saw this today while scrolling through my news feed. This is one of the many news items that i have come across especially in these grave times. People harming innocent, dumb animals just for fun, just for some godforsaken video that may get them views. This is heartbreaking and depressing for some one like me who tries to appreciate the life itself. I have been an animal lover since the time I can remember. But this act, animal lover or not is a disgrace to the human kind. This elephant was fed a pineapple with firecrackers stuffed in it. She was pregnant and upon eating the fruit, her mouth and tongue were damaged to an extent that she couldn’t bear the pain and stood in the river damping her mouth in order to ease the pain. She died without harming a single human being, without breaking a single home.

How can we justify taking life of anybody when we cannot give a life. How is that amusement for some people is harming others. Is this what humanity come to.

If this is the case, maybe Corona is the antidote. Maybe this is what animals would feel like for humans. A deadly, insensitive, sinister virus that takes lives because it cannot do anything else.

I have tears in my eyes as I write this. This is unacceptable. If there was God, this is ungodly. Maybe there isn’t heaven or hell. Maybe we don’t need heaven or hell. Atleast the humans, they don’t because they have the weapon that can lay wrath to anything but themselves or maybe sometimes their own. Maybe the human cannot be trusted with this power, this preposterous, illegitimate filth that we humans boast of. Every life is precious, animals or humans, blacks or whites, hindu or muslims, Dalits or brahmans.

Hope someday we could all learn.

Rest in Peace you Majestic Animal. We didn’t deserve you.

The Perfect Dish

How do you know this the perfect relationship?
The young asked the elder while they prepared the dinner.
This needs some more pepper,
The elder said as she tasted the soup,
Will you be a doll and pass me some? She had politely asked her,
You see dear,
Relationships are like cooking,
There  might be days you create something awful,
Or days when you feel like there’s nothing in the world quite like this,
Sometimes you might feel something is missing in your preparation,
Or you may feel that you overdid it,
But you see dear,
Every dish you make,
Every new recipe you try,
There would come a day,
You’ll find the best balance between all the ingredients in your dish,
Maybe it is too spicy for someone else’s liking,
Or too blant for some other,
But remember it is perfect for you,
The one that races your heart on fire,
The best drug of all time,
And calms the storms inside you,
Brings you home,
Makes you smile at the smallest of all things,
All at once,
Remember dear whenever this happens,
Its perfect for you,
But as all masterpieces take time and trust and respect and energy to build,
A dish requires the same,
We all are artists in some way or the other,
She smiled as she poured the soup in bowls,
Take this one to your grandfather,
She said,
He likes it hot,
She had smirked…..