Mausam* Memories

The sky is overcast. Raindrops float in the air as the clouds step down to earth. There is a shade of sun rays glittering through the clouds on the east, like a beautifully engraved motif of golden thread on the velvet sky. The golden hue is rustic and blends with the grey and blue sky...

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Night's stormy tryst Now silence persists Strands of sky Look through the clouds Twilight whispers into dawn Eyes witness drenched morn... - Vibha

Words &Rain

It is raining in Delhi NCR and perfect time to write. Alas my life as a recruiter disrupts by being as a writer. Yet, some time to steal from all the essentials for all the things worth living for. "And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry,...

Dawn to Dusk

blushed clouds  strokes of pink passions perfected invisible ink subtle silent passes the day purple rage fiery foreplay fall in arms intertwined souls a whisper a sigh as the night calms...

In Search Of Kamali

(I wrote this story nearly two years back when I did a course in creative writing to fine-tune my skill as a writer. During one of the assignments we were asked by our mentor Mr. Menon, to read about the Lodhi Dynasty and write a story based on that era as a ghost!  During the course of this assignment, I came across the mention of the Jamali Kamali tombs. While Jamali is the tomb of the sufi poet Jamali Kamboh, the antecedents of Kamali are yet unknown. There was something mystifying about this structure and I chose it as the prompt to my story.) In Search Of Kamali I have returned Kamali. As promised, I have returned to Mehrauli. Nearly 500 years have passed, but it seems like yesterday. Mehrauli has changed. It has become noisy. This place was noisy earlier too, but there was a rhythm to the noise. There...

Jar of Joy

There is a Jar in my bedroom, I call it the Jar of Joy. It has bits and pieces of memories, of happy moments scribbled in small chits of red and white by my son. At the end of the year, we take out those chits and read them. Nothing really happens, but we go back to...

The Beginning

The start was as usual. It took nearly fifteen minutes for Jay to reach the shop. The fog wasn’t as dense as the meteorology department had predicted and little flakes of sunshine floated to the window of his shop making the frost sprinkled on the pane glitter. Delhi winters were different. There was warmth in...