...continued from Will - Part 1 Majorda, 29th September, 1979 “Why are we driving out of Panaji, Mr D’sa?” I asked him when I realized that we were crossing the bridge over the river. “I don’t want to be seen celebrating with you. Especially not tonight,” he looked at me, “and please, call me Albert.” … Continue reading Will – Part 2
Vasai, 20th September, 1979 Dushera was approaching. I was in the balcony of the house I was currently living in, looking outside to the busy street that was my main source of entertainment in those days. My arms were being gently caressed by the waning, comfortable light of the day. Dust rose high from the … Continue reading Will – Part 1
“So, this is it.” She said-sighed, weary, tired, sad but hoping that her flight delays. “I wanted to give you this before I go.” She said. Her eyes finally met with his. The day’s dying light enveloped his entire world. Her eyes whispered grey stories and exhibited evidences of her clouded tear-filled afternoon. “It is … Continue reading The Day’s Dying Light
Kanika didn’t show up at the old fort that evening. Day waned to a night that, under different circumstances, would’ve been beautiful (seducing even) but at that moment it seemed ruthless. I was waiting at the top of Bhavani’s Baithak, one of the towers of the fort, since what must have been two hours. She … Continue reading Bhavani’s Baithak
The Man was digging, while the Dog watched. "Damn this dirt," he said, at which the Dog looked on and waited. It tilted its head towards the right and spat the stick on the ground. In its impatience, it barked thrice. More dirt crept in the Man's fingernails. His bruised knuckles frowned at his desperation. … Continue reading The Man, The Dog And The Metaphor.
“The two needs that haunt our otherwise innocent minds are the need to judge and the need to compare. All other emotions are but perverse reflections of these, nothing else. Even if they are something else, deep down inside there are roots hooked to these two grotesque traits of the devil himself, you hear?” Stalin … Continue reading The Two Needs
Age 8: There was this string! Caught between the fingers of a boy of eight, on a happy afternoon when the house fell still and when the elders found refuge in a post-lunch siesta. Rohan wandered in his imagination, and let the string flow but he knew not where it came from. It wasn’t too … Continue reading Four Blinks