Yashodhara Waits…

Well, this is no documented story in history, just a figment of my imagination. The story goes that prince Siddhartha left his wife and son and denounced the world and its pleasures. I just thought of narrating it from the wive’s perspective. I guess this story begins where the history ends..One of my recommended reads.

Neem Baba

I used to see a lunatic on road at times on my way to school. In the rickshaw I used to take, I would find children my age suddenly hushed to silence on seeing him. Though, this was decades ago, it somehow got transcended into a small piece of fiction. Needless to say, the Neem tree and the incident around it is a figment of my imagination.

The Wait

I remember a night before the festival of Holi, many many years ago, my dad was particularly late in returning from work and my mom waited for him often looking out of the window or going to the door. Those were days when even landlines were not common and mobiles hadn’t really come into existence. The incident just found form in this story…

Giving Up

“The first cigarette is like first love. Both use the lips to explore, leave a heart burn and very rarely get to a conclusion” I looked at the lit end of the cigarette for a brief moment before taking another drag. The ruby burnt bright and the paper ebbed in. The stashed smoke escaped in …

The Ivory Dreams

‘The Ivory Dreams’ is purely fiction and one of my first attempts at the noir genre. The incident is linear like my other works and the details are worked to suit the plot. A man lusts for a co-passenger on a train only to discover….read on, if you care.

Till Death Do Us Part

I regard this as my best work of fiction till date. Recommended for its soulful plain narrative. Over the years, people and friends who have read it have accused me of making them cry. Read on at your own risk…:)


Rejected was the first story I experimented with perspectives. How a single situation is seen by two parties on either side differently despite them being tied by a common bond which remains undiscovered.

The Yellow Envelope

‘The Yellow Envelope’ is about a choice. There are certain things which can’t be sold, not because there aren’t any takers but because you can’t find anyone eligible to keep the legacy intact. Structured over a romantic theme and a tinge of pain again, this one remains my favorite.

The Other Side of The Ocean

‘The other side of the ocean’ is a simple narrative and one of my earlier works. The situation is one which is not hard to find. Nostalgic, romantic and finishing with a tinge of pain, it remains one easy ready.

मैं आज़ाद हूँ (Main Aazad Hoon)

I wrote ‘मैं आज़ाद हूँ’ sitting in office on eve of Independence day celebrations at the work place. I had a cubicle with a nice view overlooking the road in that particular organization. There was an office event planned during the lunch hour and I was sitting working on something when I happened to see a boy not older than 10 perhaps running after cars on a traffic light selling them Indian flags. This simple flash triggered this poem and I completed and recited it during the event the same day.

मुलज़िम (Mulzim)

मुलज़िम perhaps marks my coming of age with Hindi poetry. There is an unrelenting anger throughout the poem. The essence blends Urdu words and which I feel were necessary to bring out the right meaning to the reader.

And It Rained

‘And It Rained’ is more like a monologue written for my own self than anyone else. This syncs up another of my works – a poem titled ‘The Draught’ available under the section ‘The Realms of Love & Trance’

Once a Morning

Life as it happens between days and morning routines. All of us put a mask on when stepping out and become a different person when alone. This story discovers lost bits between morning chores, dreams and life in general.

The Rising

The rising is about my planned resurrection. The theme is mainly abstract and borders on being dark. An alternate interpretation of this is a positive one where I hope to rise again from being down and out. Read and judge for yourself.

No Longer, No More

This was written at a time when I was perhaps all time low. I was unsure of all footing in life and had undergone a serious emotional crisis. I don’t regard it as an emphatic literary work, yet all the pieces from that time keep me grounded and are hence special.

This Moment

I think I modified it a bit from what I originally wrote in 2004. This is an easy piece, simple rhyming scheme and abstract ranting…

She Lives On

‘She lives on’ is a special poem and it is special because the person this poem is dedicated to was and remains a very special person. Like the poem says.. She lives on…In my smiles and tears…In this life and beyond and In times that move on…

I am Fine

I don’t remember what exactly triggered or inspired this short piece. I like it for its simplicity and a single thought. It is not very often that I can churn out a piece in ten minutes flat. Short, crisp, linear…that’s it.


Mamma is the closest any of my stories could get to my personal life. Based on the series of events around my grand mother’s death, this is one recommended read.

From The Mirror

Vivid, graphic and again from a time when things were simple. I would get inspired by a book, a movie visual or simply let my imagination run wild in my free time.

If I Could

Someone who read it long ago mentioned that this is a school boy’s poem and I replied, ‘yes, it is’ since I was all but a boy in school when I wrote this one. Simple rhyming scheme and a linear thought again, this is one of my earliest works again.

All This Time

‘All this time’ dates back to another lifetime and is perhaps one of my earliest, probably one of the first few poems that I ever wrote. Incidentally I still have the original sheet of paper where I wrote this It reminds me of a different era and a different me altogether.

The Draught

‘The Draught’ had come at a time when I was still searching for my calling in life. I still don’t know if the world has seen my best though..