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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Aah, shite She sighed as she wiped the black from her eyes, the salty tears stinging. She stared. At herself. In the mirror. She smiled, that assured half-smile. The other half whimpered in doubt. She took her lower lip between her trembling fingers and folded it outwards. There t...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I loved a boy made of stone Perfectly chiseled to the mould of my expectations Skillfully crafted with artful, statue-like perfection Terribly difficult to move I loved a boy made of stone His cold hands were carved beautifully In unequal proportions to my own His smooth hands did not fit b...
  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    Sometimes, it’s hard for people to believe that there are times when I do not speak or talk at all. The ludicrousness of my admittance of prolonged, peaceful, thoughtful silence is beyond comprehension for most. But there are times when I just like to look around and keep mum. Or have a book op...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    I got a little dirt in my eye the other day. One of those minuscule specks of dust that seem to cause unbelievably intolerable levels of irritation. So, I rubbed my eye till it squeaked. It was my right eye, I believe. My 'good eye'. In hindsight, I have no idea why I took off my Favouri...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Rooted, She looks beyond the clearing. Waiting, For It is coming, it is coming. She listens to the silence. Straining Waiting For she knows It is coming, it is coming A whistle. A whistle? A whistle in the wind Building And building Not a whistle anymore. But she stands her gro...
  • Opinion > Love / Relationships
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    There’s this certain magic that I associate with finding the ‘love of your life’. This element of ‘fate’ or ‘destiny’ that many people tend to disregard, understandably so. ‘Fate’ and ‘Destiny’ are, of course, just terrible consolations for when we’ve hit rock-bottom and temp...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    She had a jar. This glass jar, with a red lid. A red lid with holes in it, to let the good air in. The air was for the butterflies. She had painted the jar, with beautiful nuances of greens and blues and reds. There was this distinct streak of gold, right around the centre, that sparkled when t...
  • Hot Topics > What Matters
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    Before I commence with my topic of discussion, I would like to put forward a question. How many of you enjoy watching beauty pageants? Admittedly, Miss Universe is a personal favourite of mine. However, I must admit that I am at variance with child beauty pageants. Of course, there are many bigoted ...
  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    Nehal had anticipated this very day for as long as he could remember. As he packed some clean clothes in a rucksack, he fondly welcomed the nostalgia, recollecting his Gammy’s exact words, “To seek the Truth, one must be prepared. One must be ready to accept the complexities of something so simp...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    In the dark recesses Of a desolate world, A hero glows and A villain burns. Born from man’s ceaseless desperation To always see the light, Our hero is a phenomenon- A lesser known guardian, in a still lesser known night. The incandescent vigilante listens- A force no man could sway-...
  • Fiction > Historical Fiction
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    They had grown up together. In the bustling city of Berlin, 1926, two seven year old boys had found solace in each other’s company; in a world where no one had time for each other. Oskar and Kohain. The former, a native and the latter, a devout follower of Judaism; they were indifferent to the cul...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    She sat there Silent. With book in hand, she embraced the summer air. The sounds of children playing and birds singing All, in sweet harmony. She looked up Took a deep breath Sigh. The ice- cream man came along Creamy delights – red, white, yellow, brown Still as a statue, deep in t...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    And she stood there alone, palms sweaty Eyes clenched, wishing everything would be alright. Storm rolling in, she did not cower With head held high, she stood. No fear but all might. Her determined chin, her sturdy stance One would not think she was suffering. A pain more unbearable than...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    I am the child of change, adopted by many. From the intense fusion of hope and desire, I was born. The many who fostered me, became me Moulded by the hands of happiness and memories in the sun, Shaped by the sharp blades of misery, This is what I have become. Yet, I say to you, I am miss...

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