Creative Writing

Hmm Grayquill’s post ‘Why we write?’ got me thinking. I was thinking why do we actually read. If I have lost a dog or a cat and I write about it. What difference does it make to your life? zilch. What difference does it make if I am in love….

This is from my four year old sunshine. my niece. my best friend Kuhu. A little gift to each and every one who reads this. Dear grown ups, My hands are small – I don’t mean to spill my milk, My legs are short – Please slow down so I…

A few blurry smiling faces walked down the foggy street. The turbaned man, in his late fifties, sat on the edge of the footpath smoking a joint. An elderly homeless lady curled up near the temple lived by the warmth of a few logs of wood. Perhaps, searching for the…

In the classroom. A teacher with a little problem with his eyes (squint) and the kids with every sorts of problems with their eyes (to see things that do not exist) Professor– There are two ways to look at a thing. Once in a blue moon Student- (lets out a…

It felt dirty ‘inside’   I used to love my Muddy blue pants But you always Liked them clean   You know what It did not change A thing in me Because, It felt dirty ‘inside’…   “Clean because, they should shine” You said. And I should not Look unclean…

Image: From the Internet It is that time of the year… When the vision dims As the twilight fogs… And the Blue eyed beauty Sighs at the misty moon As she walks down The Begrimed path Her frail white hand Tries to hold The mist and the sand She can…

It is not usually that I would post something like this. But I sincerely feel this is soo me.. This is all true.. And I kind of liked it. So here it is ..aahan..  

This poem here traverses my journey through college. A nostalgic tribute to the three years of graduation. To all the friends who made the days, the months, the years, more than special. It has been doing rounds on facebook with all my friends responding super emotionally to it. Thought might…

She knocked on the door. And waited. She banged on it again. She kept banging it. The only response she got was in the form of thumping heart beats. She was breathing harder now, almost panting and sweating. The tension was mounting as she turned around and saw another door….

Image: Internet   The dimly lit room never made so much sense. It was what she had always wanted or tried to want. Her desires, wants, aspirations, everything came down to this very little room. A room of her own, there was not much of room for her otherwise. A…