Free Fall

Nights are getting longer;days colder.Vessel of void; lonelier.Plunged into whirlpool,a routine of rote.Fog and bleeding moonlight:beautiful yet annihilating. A perpetual descending.One hope at a time.Downward and lowerbut not all the way,leaving behind sad silt –a residual life. A double-edged swordPiercing only inward.Holding the beads.Like lost cloudson an overcast evening;together but fragmented:Life’s one big sunset. DreamsContinue reading “Free Fall”

The isolation

It’s the world we live in during self-isolation – our world. Just us left to our imaginations and thoughts. But living in our own world can be a dangerous thing. You start thinking; thoughts taking shape and gradually those grotesque molds extending into actions. You can forget reality, convincing yourself what you perceive now isContinue reading “The isolation”

The societal satire

Every hope is inconsequential if it’s not last.No feelings of love are enthralling that aren’t first. An escape is not final if it’s not lucky.Silence has no depth if it’s not deafening. No comedy is fun if it’s not tragic andImitation is no good if it’s not genuine. An hour becomes unbearable only when it’sContinue reading “The societal satire”

सरगुज़िश्त | Sarguzisht

सब समेटते हुए सब पा लेने की होड़ मे,तग़ाफ़ुल और नादानी का कुछ ऐसा दौर आया।हम चौराहे की चिंता करते रहे,और राहें बदल गईं जो पहला ही मोड़ आया। Sab samet te hue sab paa lene ki hod me,Taghaful aur naadani ka kuch aisa daur aaya.Hum chaurahe ki chinta karte rahe.Aur rahen badal gyin joContinue reading “सरगुज़िश्त | Sarguzisht”

The Cogito

And finally, when I considered that the very same thoughts (presentations) which we experience when awake may also be experienced when we are asleep, while there is at that time not one of them true, I supposed that all the objects (presentations) that had ever entered into my mind when awake, had in them noContinue reading “The Cogito”

The voice and the girl (Part 3)

Day 25711:45 PM Dear Diary, It is day two hundred and fifty-seven in hell. I’m still here. Just as hopeless; just as confused, and just as lonely as the first day. There are constant thuds against the outer walls. Sometimes, so feeble that I feel I’m imagining it and sometimes so loud that it shattersContinue reading “The voice and the girl (Part 3)”

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