Picture is taken at Triund, Himachal Pradesh, India On a confused night, when words dance, this is what the show looks like: I am the trembling icicles of the water fall, I am the shining darkness of the night sky, I am the scent of the winter leaves, I am the cold touch of the morning dew, I am the sweetness of the cherry cake, I am the roughness of the morning hair, I am the cuteness of your curled lips, I am … I am.. the crackling sound of your laugh! Who am I?      ...

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“How long will you take?”, Reyona asked Leela  cheerfully. Leela was glued to her computer screen, right hand resting on the table, fingers curled around the mouse. In her left hand, she held a blue fountain pen. Leela had been assigned here only a week before. Reyona and Leela had been returning home together for the last four days now. Theirs was a pleasant companionship. “Five minutes”, she replied. Reyona seated herself and started twisting the unmodified Rubik’s cube from Leela’s desk.  Fifteen minutes passed while Reyona struggled to get a perfect red top. In the next attempt...

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Their first conversation went awry. ‘I love pomegranate juice’, Sagar had casually mentioned over the phone. ‘Yeah, that is sweet and a little too tart for me’, Aliya had started getting irritated of the conversation that had commenced magically well. ‘Do you like Soft Toys?’, he tried to divert her attention to something she may like, sensing her discomfort. ‘I adore them in the hands of kids and kids, I like them at a distance’, she jumped in an outstretched coarse tone before he could finish. ‘Ah, okay, there is an important call on the line, I cannot...

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Why is the road ahead dark? or Are my dreams at crossroads? Why do my legs tremble in the walk? Have I not tried to purge off the load? Ahh! Why cannot I hang on to a mark? or Do I not have the courage to break the code? Pic Credits: Ravi Kapoor ...

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