Your love is so much traas, she says
Your words are such bakwaas, he repliesThey walk into the literary festival hand-in-hand.
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If Art be the much loved child Carried to term and delivered by the nurturing womb of Creativity Which in turn, is impregnated by the sperm-seed of an Idea What else can Curiosity be …but the passionate union? And yet it takes two to unite, to create. But Art, owned…
Now here’s a story based on a little something that happened in real life. I once worked at an office where the printer was named for the employee who was seated closest to it. It created some mirthful situations. This however, is fiction. For today’s A to Z Challenge, I…
We must find our rituals of peace. We must find them in incompletion. We must create them in unpeaceful conditions. We must if we must breathe easy, sleep easy, live easy. Mine are domestic chores. There’s something about mundane domesticity that counteracts my dramatic larger than life. It grounds my…
Two missed calls, The first unwelcome, the second uncalled for, An email, anticipated but that I hoped wouldn’t come, A statement out of context, ill-timed. Surprises, like land-mines, litter my day.
I haven’t seen you in awhile. he said. I’ve been waiting. I murmured. You’re sure about this, right? he asked in some trepidition, reacting perhaps to some hidden uncertainity in my voice. I trust you completely. I dimpled back. And closed my eyes. His hands moved gently. An hour later…
I like standing on the beach and looking out into the sea. The waves come at me hungrily, passionately and touch my toes and leave. Its like the ocean telling me it can claim me for its own anytime, just reminding me that it can and leaving me standing. Its…
