“Aa Raha hu Papa” : An Open Letter to My Superhero

Excerpt: If mumma was the drawing in the empty colour book, my life was, you were the crayons.

Let him love you a bit more before you are not little anymore. Happy Father’s Day! Tell your father how special he is!

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बचपन : A Lost Trail

Most of our childhood is stored not in photos but in certain biscuits, lights of day, smells, texture of carpets, the fistfights and the broken swings and in the muddled grounds that hide the footprints, that once stamped on it. Society is always trying to kick you out of childhood. Once you are gone, there is no going back, so you have to hold on as long as you can. And looking back is how you start.

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An Ode to My Previous Self | Varanasi

Life’s become a random string of beads. A chaotic sequence that is sparkling sometimes, and dull and ostentatious most of the time. Standing at the Assi Ghats, I take a moment to recall what drove me here. I stand at the tip of the ghats, looking at a reflection, one I cannot call my own. What am I running from?

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