As I walked into the building, nostalgia flooded my senses. That baby blue paint! They’d maintained it all these years. Then the sight of the courtyard came threatening to undo me. Eons ago, this was a large, happy, sandy place students would run amok in while waiting to be picked up by their parents. Now, even empty, I see it is only a tiny space for mini-people. As everyone was in class, the halls were as I never witnessed them except during toilet breaks, “excuse card” in hand —quiet and empty.
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Cows in the Haze (2)

See Part 1 of this story here.

Chinny took the bag from me, peered inside, then marched silently upstairs. I stared at her open-mouthed as she walked away, but for once words failed me. There was no lying this one away. Minutes later I sat before a panel consisting of her and my mother, with Manuch launching his eight year old self in and out of the room like the restless soul he was. He was curious, but caught between listening in and punching the throw-pillows in the sitting-room. Kickboxing was his current obsession.

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Cows in the Haze (1)

It’s my thirty year old birthday today, so naturally I’m home, sitting at my desk and staring out the window at the coming night. It’s still light outside, yet an impatient moon floats in my horizon. Another milestone reached, another reason to grow a beard and reflect. It’s always good to remember. Where would I be, had things turned out differently? Earlier on I browsed nearby houses, and just now I’d been searching online for a decent engagement ring. Who knew? I close the lid of my laptop and drift back to the pre-Google 90’s of my pre-teens—one night in particular that shaped my entire outlook on life.
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The Spanner in My Gears

Like my mother, I’m in love with lists. I love making them, feel safe having them, and endlessly refer to them. So naturally, in a bid to improve myself as a writer, I made several lists documenting my entire process: what makes me tick, genres I’m interested in, what I hate about writing, things I have to work on, etc. Obviously, “challenges” was one of such lists. And in the spirit of having the courage to post the most seemingly-irrelevant, mundane or personal reads (this being personal, without a cloak of fiction), I thought to share this—My List of Writing Challenges—with everyone. Continue reading “The Spanner in My Gears”

A Song From Catatonia

In a white-walled, starkly-lit room, Kura sat waiting for her troubled visitor. Many nights the man would come in and hurt her in various ways, but she held no grudge against him—he was dealing with many issues. There were ways—secret ways—that pain could be weathered without feeling a thing, and she frequently employed them. But something else was amiss tonight. She knew this because she possessed a gift of foresight which no one seemed to believe. Still, she was determined to disclose her most recent premonition.
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