Reminiscence- A collection of haibuns — Why do we write? Is it to satiate our soul, to express the inexpressible, or to present some stories that we know can resonate with if not all, but definitely a few of the readers. I remember vaguely, the day when holding my dad’s fingers, I visited this local bookstore…

A Multi-Sensory Journey — As I took the turn, ready to witness the famous Delhi 6, my eyes fell on some birds flying high in the sky, circling, encircling that part over Delhi 6 continuously, as if, they are ready to do it, again and again, for eternity, as if, they love the place, unlike anything else…

Lost Love’s Lament — What about the sun that burns like a round, shiny copper coin in the hands, what about the twilight, that slowly recedes, erasing the scenery around, what about the dew, that arrives on the surface of the cupped flowers, what about the cloud that scribbles letters of love among the stars of the…

Existing, Criss-crossing — Uneasy Feelings, They are like the reflections of a gloomy lake, maybe like the echoes of the voices deep within the bottom of a blue well when it’s filled with monsoon rains, but they are always so elusive, like the northerly winds, like the meandering river, we keep trying to tie the…

A Day In Monsoon With Heavy Rainfall — As incessant rainfall lashed the land, there I was stuck on the road, waiting for the rain-gods to slow down, the muddy and desolated hut being my sole companion until then. I wondered why I hadn’t seen this hut before because I regularly passed this street. Well, today was the…

Whatever It Offers, Seep Everything In — A darkened vestibule breathing with some jasmines loitering around, a tinge of flickering sepia light swinging like pendulums over them, the sugary spiderwebs, embroidered by dewdrops at one end, a magpie sitting beside the white lilies, singing his heart out, hoping to see the will-o-the-wisp once it's darker and quieter, a slow rustle of hurried…

A Child’s Landscape — Flocks of constellated skies, a tumbler full of sparkling stars twinkling, strands of hybrid trees, their tremulous veins running helter-skelter through the meandering streets, rivers traversing strewn with clear blue waters, confused about whether to kiss the banks or the nomadic stones that lie in between, broad courtyards with many breezes breezing through…

Holding Onto Home in the Hourglass of Time — A homely abode once created through so much love infused with beads of sweat, families moved in, smiling, their harmonies weaving through the sanctuary’s walls, the wet footsteps of kids left impermanence but fondness every time, until the sun's rays rubbed them off, the house became a home humming with life’s cyclic moments…

My Arboreal Twin — Isn’t it surreal to think that somewhere in the infinite forests covering the nooks and crannies of the world, a tree sprouted on the same day you were born, on that exact moment perhaps, opening its first leaf, taking the first peek towards the welcoming bright sun, and has been growing alongside…