Consequence horror

The hard thing to do is to face consequences. They come rushing to you, suddenly unleashed. Dark, demonic and deathly. You do not have anything or anyone to blame. Save, maybe a childhood that didn’t go too well. But that’s no excuse. Consequences are merciless. You stand at the edge of your sanity, sweating. You… Continue reading Consequence horror


Streets of Secunderabad 

Low lying houses with large airy verandahs, behind low iron gates. A burst of bougainvillea against the whitewashed walls, spilling. The colour of crushed Indian  rose. The colour of blood mixed in gold. In tufts, in bunches, in surprises. The yards lie swept, resting under the shade of Gulmohar trees. The trees are in full… Continue reading Streets of Secunderabad 

Road no 12, Banjara Hills

It was this road that ran a good length into Banjara Hills, flanked protectively by luxury brands on either sides. Amrapali, the store read and an elevated cobblestoned driveway led to the side door. I walked in, step matching with Jigi. The first thing I noticed was some girl's bleached hair, coloured rainbow, falling dry… Continue reading Road no 12, Banjara Hills

Balcony blues 

When one has enough time on their hands to sit back and let boredom talk, one spews this nonsense out into the world.

Locked away in midnight hour 

Only the moist finger tips of a pregnant sky, irritatingly tingling my spine, running down along it, in rivulets, disappearing, but staining my cotton dresses, has the power to keep me awake after a tiring day. The tiredness stays and stretches as I move about, it's there, it's slowly taking over my movements, slowing them… Continue reading Locked away in midnight hour