The Death of a Poet

(I tried to imagine myself in the shoes of a dying poet, longing for oblivion. The doctor just left the room and he turned off the knob of the breathing apparatus.) Ah! Love is in the air! The fools call this apparatus, a life support. If only this ‘pure air’, Could induce the life-like trance,…

My Rhythm and Your Blues

My kind of days are winter days, And for nights, I crush on the decembered moon, Because there are no fireflies here, No stars to fall in love with. Just an eloquent vacancy, And a fireplace. A fireplace that breathes in grief-stricken flames, A fireplace with embers turned blue. Abagail downstairs, swears I’m a madman,…

Rewind: Youth

via Daily Prompt: Youth In that denim jacket, Sabrina Henrique looked totally rad. The haphazard clutter of polaroids by the wall in the attic usually lights up by this time day; well, exactly after the sun hits her window pane. A jacket from decades ago one might assume would look a soiled piece of rag….

Lessons on Freedom

When that first charcoal colored bat flew across the sky, I mistook it for a bird. Soon enough there were hoards of them, And then the evening skyline was studded with multitudes of black. Meanwhile, the last fellow was trying to catch up with its mates. The way it stretched its arched flaps, created ripples, and…

A Rainy Day

It certainly is the most clichéd thing to write about but, for starters, have you ever wondered why? Having an essay by rote for tests sure was the best alternative during school. Now that I’m older, it occurs to me that the answer was always waiting outside my balcony, in awkwardly timed afternoon showers, dancing…

Mom – Rendition

They say it’s difficult to understand women and even harder to understand mothers. I guess I was in fifth grade when, according to my mum, I had started falling a victim to bad habits. And by bad habits she meant sleeping for long hours, not completing the homework on time, watching TV for hours and what…

With Love, Manyu. – 1

“The Graduation Goggles”   In the beginning, I thought that the thing I’m gonna miss most when I graduate is the free internet access. Regardless, I’m gonna miss it like hell. But as the winds from the final semester began to knock on my room’s door, I realized that this parting thing is going to…

A Walk To Remember

The last time I remember phasing out was when Ms. Valerie was diligently distributing the test papers from last week’s test. So, she called out my name three times and I just sat there. I mean I was almost hearing her, but better things to worry about then was the imaginary date I was on…

Burning the Midnight Crayons

The first memory of an achievement of any kind traces back to my kindergarten days when I won the second prize in a drawing competition. And I bet most would budge and fake a smile. Okay! Truth time, I drew a tree. Literally, how often do you see a house, mountains, a river, a tree…

The Mute Theory

Last semester, exhausted from one uber busy day, I reached my room , flung open the door, kicked off my shoes and crawled into my untidy heap of clothes; my bed of course. I swear the schedule was so tedious that week, tidying the room seemed a far-fetched chore. Nevertheless, I had a crater of…

A Conversation That Wasn’t

Prelude: Several times in passing, I sometimes stop by a shepherd and watch him skillfully direct his flock,  sometimes stop by the woman in the monastery and watch her weave wrist-gears, sometimes take a moment to giggle whenever I see women tactfully bargain, or even sit on the bench in the park during evenings, observing people, and their…