In the heart of an unknown state, nestled between ancient banyan trees and fields of mustard that turned gold each winter, lay the sleepy town of Haridham—a place where time clung to the walls like the soot from incense, and gossip travelled faster than the morning Azaan. It was the kind of place where everyoneContinue reading “Haridham’s Harmonica”
Tag Archives: writing
While We Wait
The café was half-empty, basking in golden afternoon light and soft strains of indie music. It had that cozy kind of modern charm: distressed wood tables, dangling plants, the hiss of espresso machines punctuating lazy JJ conversations. Mahi stepped in, the bell above the door announcing her arrival with a delicate tinkle. She paused atContinue reading “While We Wait”
The Empty Chair
Every morning, just as the sun filtered through the slatted blinds and bathed the little café by the square in a soft gold glow, he would come. Crisp coat, dark eyes, and that quiet kind of grace that made him look like he’d stepped out of a half-remembered dream. He never spoke much, only noddedContinue reading “The Empty Chair”
Why, Georgia Why
Am I living it right Am I living it right Why Georgia Why Why Georgia Why, John Mayer. He kept driving by himself on the lonely highway as the evening sun was about to disappear. He wanted to reach to the self-serviced apartment before the sun set so he stepped up the accelerator. His playlistContinue reading “Why, Georgia Why”
The Disappearance of Arvind Mathur
It began on an unremarkable Monday morning. Aditi called, but Arvind didn’t pick up. She assumed he was busy, perhaps immersed in his music or lost in a strange book. By evening, when Nikhil texted and received no reply, mild concern set in. Anjali, ever perceptive, called Aditi. “Have you heard from Arvind today?” “No.Continue reading “The Disappearance of Arvind Mathur”
His Story
He had always loved too much. As a child, he was the one who clung to his mother’s side, eager for a kind word, a lingering touch on his hair. She was busy, though, always too tired, too distracted. His father barely spoke, except to issue commands. It was the first lesson he learned: love,Continue reading “His Story”
Sunday Mornings & Green Tea
“How the hell can you spoil the taste of those heavenly biscuits with that warm lemon water?” she’d demand, hands on her hips, eyes gleaming with mock indignation. Sunday mornings used to be their ritual. The scent of freshly brewed green tea mingled with the warmth of oat cookies, and Dean Martin crooning softly on theContinue reading “Sunday Mornings & Green Tea”
A Flight of Memories
The flight was calm, the steady hum of the engines filling the cabin with a low, rhythmic lull. She adjusted the blanket over her sleeping son, her fingers brushing against the tiny hands curled into a fist. Her husband sat beside her, flipping through a magazine, oblivious to the storm that was about to crashContinue reading “A Flight of Memories”
The Right Man
She sat alone at the bar, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her untouched glass. The ice had long since melted, the condensation pooling beneath it like the remnants of her unresolved past. The low hum of conversation around her faded into the background as she drifted into a world of what-ifs and should-haves.Continue reading “The Right Man”
A Fragrance of September
The café still smelt the same as always. Coffee beans, warm bread, and a faint trace of vanilla from the pastries in the display case. He sat by the window, just as he used to, stirring his espresso absentmindedly, his eyes drawn to the empty chair across from him. It had been years, yet someContinue reading “A Fragrance of September”
Words are flowing out... 