Ellipsism : Sadness that you’ll never be able to know how history will turn out.

United by the havoc of our manipulative selves. We share our little secrets like exemplary lovers. Silver wrapped, irresistible and beguiling. You come home with the promise of changing my world when nothing seems to work. Entwined around fingers. Clenched between teeth. I renew myself like never before. Should I be cautious or let you crash? Because, you hold me. Create me. Cremate me.

Pack of cigarettes.


Memory : December 15, 2014.
Image : Portrait.
Sniper : My Camera.

Place : Home

Nodus Tollens : The realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore.

He was suave, constantly spinning yarns out of my wintry thoughts. Braiding vivid imagery of mountains in my head, before I had seen any. Of deodar forests, rain hitting tin roofs, misty meadows and rhododendron trails. He was deeply and irrevocably in love with the passions that lighten my heart. His eyes deep, dark, prepossessing. I coveted to swim unimpeded in the black depths of his eyes. Tracking his sillage beyond the abyss. Our breaths entwined like sleeping serpents underneath the bright sky of infinite possibilities. I remember those gibberish songs that he used to hum. The warmth of his body still rests below the layers of my skin. His words were pure wine, moreish, enthralling and plausible. Like a single thread with many beginnings and with no end in sight. I still find myself filled to the brim with life's most sublime experiences and adventures. Like a little girl in an enchanted forest enjoying a Sufi spin.

Memory : June 15, 2015.
Image : Spin
Sniper : My Camera.
Place : Some enchanting highway (During a road trip).

Liberosis : The desire to care less about things.

 The First Sip :


... and a number of flavours did a jeopardy in her mind as he insisted her to have a sip. She lifts the bottle and for a nano second her earth, quakes. Being raised with a large number of warning signs of things that harm and intoxicate.

A moment of shared solitude prevailed. Slowly, her heart slipped. Perhaps a little sip to disappear, to hibernate and to come back stronger with some solid experience. She raises the bottle again to destroy that little window of curiosity and sniffs. It smelt havoc. "If I let it crash into me for how long will it stay"? She questioned, looking deep down in his confident eyes. He smiled, took the bottle from her hand and quaffed. "Taste it from here", he whispered. In a moment, they were just a breath away. Nervous. Frozen like an ice cube. Caged with the same racing beat. She slowly melted and stole her first sip from his lips. Bound by light and by the music of their own heart, it tasted like an elixir from his mouth.

Say, who else does she blame now?

Memory : August 29, 2015.
Image : Feet
Sniper : My Camera.
Place : Radisson Blu, Indore.

Rubatosis : The unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat.

All the ink-stained scribblers, canvas kissers, melody hunters, secret snipers, majestic moulders. Don't be amazed if you see those eyes always wandering. Go crazy with your quill. Itch those words into the skin and let them penetrate deeper so there remains no pain when you bleed in despair. Dig out your paintbrush. Spill colours. Paint the happiness. Contour that sensation. Bustling with shades of glee. You, like a pedagogue of melodies, sing your heart out. Loud and crack it till the darkest hour. Let these melodies hover into space leaving behind the yearning of the one who will never return. You, the moment maker, capture the golden mornings, purple nights and the hours in between from merry to the mundane ones. Stroll through the bends and sidewalks of the mind. Along the ridges and bunkers of the subconscious. Create something or anything. You, the majestic moulder, let the mud swirl between your fingers its fragrance linger all over you like a cure, an elixir, a panacea. On one of those days learn to see the magic, learn to listen what universe is trying to converse. There will be times when the happy waves will pull too far out. Wait. Wait and enjoy the distance. Smiles often have a way of making ripples slip back in. Understand, there is certainly a bad day but not a bad life.

Memory : May 15, 2015.
Image : Road.
Sniper : My Camera.
Place : Enroute Munnar, Kerala, India.

Meraki : To do something with soul, creativity, or love; when you leave a piece of yourself in your work.

On 'India 2.0: Reclaiming Tryst with Destiny'

Billion dreams. Unfurling hopes. Fluttering doves. Galloping thoughts. Surpassing opportunities. Audacious actions. Greater triumphs. Long back, they stood up and bashed what India wanted. They gave us a big lump in our throats and a bigger thump on our backs leaving behind their footprints here. Wake up to such a boundless morning, ask questions, seek answers and trigger affirmative action. We are where we begin. Don't just die between could have and should have. The weather today is just perfect to sail to our beautiful shores. Make a difference. We might not be the largest democracy in the world. We are perhaps the world’s brightest opportunity. Together as a mosaic. Strangely united. There are more goose bumps of pride to conquer. It might be a small yippee for us but surely a giant hurrah for mankind. 

Memory : June 20, 2015.
Image : Sky.
Sniper : My Camera.
Place :  Somewhere in the sky (Enroute Delhi).

Note : Published, Indore Manager, Commemorative Issue 2015.

Hygge :Taking pleasure from the presence of gentle or soothing things.

Far away from the concrete jungles. Amidst the misty mountains where fluffy cotton clouds drench you every minute. Where the sprawling tea gardens makes you run like a wild boar. Where the air is nippy, perky and crystal clear. Where pretty wild flowers wiggle their bums and the green grass is all emerald. Gosh, how I got carried away. I suspect, I have just jumped into a fairy tale book.

Munnar, you beauty. Munnar, you beast.

Memory : May 13, 2015.
Image : Tea Garden.
Sniper : My Camera.
Spot : Tata Tea Estates.
Place : Munnar, Kerala.

Propinquity : Proximity.

Like two kites lost in flight. In their own whirlpool. Swirling in trance of the universe. Stirring with the counter flow. The frenetic movement. His wild invocation touching the depths of her soul. Fervid breath. Ruffled hair. Wet mouth. Hearts beating in a hungry rhythm. A change from nothing to everything. Unleashing the deep desires. They collided like two destined stars. The sky smiled. The moon blushed.

Memory : April 20, 2015.
Image : Portrait.
Sniper : My Camera.
Spot : Home.
Place : Indore, Madhya Pradesh.

Elixir : A good potion.

He was the silver of a memory. Voracious reader of books. Writings, like a serpent. Wild dreams. Rambling thoughts. Luminous realities. Heart, like a four-poster bed. There was a certain pleasure in watching him sleep, dolled up in his infinite comfort.

Like the addictive musk of ink mixing with blood.

He was Grandeur.

Memory : February 15, 2015.
Image : Feet.
Sniper : My Camera.
Spot : Home.
Place : Indore, Madhya Pradesh.