A visit to boot ghar

a poem about spaces that remind you of childhood.

The darkness within

“If you see me go into that state, please hold my hand. I’ll be fine then.” A more self-aware statement had not been heard from D in a long time. All the anger, rage, mania, distilled into one tremendously tender realisation. It happened when he was alone. ‘It’ was a place where D may have

Flashbacks: From Shloka to Roshni – Part III

“Ek hot and sour chicken soup,” J ordered.
“Soup?” The lady echoed

Flashbacks: From Shloka to Roshni – Part II

It was pitch dark. The first few steps and my foot banged a table. Ouch! A lighter flashed in that light.

Flashbacks: From Shloka to Roshni – Part I

It was one of those restaurants that service both families and men who enjoy a drink.