As it is

In bits and pieces

When trapped in the house for months, little things in life preserve your sanity, like a flock of pigeons and their gentle cooing.

Same old, same old

Here it starts again, every October, without reason or rhyme. Every act a mere repetition of what was done before; every speech a replica of what was said before.

Invalid recipient

We must have been just another Asian couple to their eyes. Because he could have been placed anywhere from the Middle-east to South Asia. And I could be placed anywhere from South to the Southeast of Asia.


By the time I finish telling my favourite umbrella story, we’ve managed to hail a taxi and gotten in. I knew it was going to be a story with a happy ending, you say.


Because the “other” is also always the “me”. The “other” is a reflection of who you are.

Temple goers

Over the last few months of being isolated at home, I’ve come to realise that if I have a religion, it is my solitude.

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