Power drifts through every corner of the day.It waits in the quiet space between two people,in the charged air before a decision lands.Who stands firmer? Who yields?The moment reveals more than any declaration ever could. In offices lit by cold bulbs,someone’s future swings on a subtle shift in tone.A chair leans back, a question hangs,and…
CategoryPoetry
The Missing Car
The lane in front of his househeld a single wonder, for his eyes only.A machine with four wheelsresting under morning haze,its curves steady, its stance unwavering,its presence marking the start and end of each day.As a curious teenager he driftedtoward it without intention,drawn by something quiet inside its stillness. The metal carried a glow even…
The Sky Between Blue and Green
About five hours to the coin toss.A billion hearts, steady yet trembling,root for the women in blue—to call the coin right, to carry the day home.An ocean away, deep in the southern land,another nation hums its own belief—the women in green, seeking to rewrite a namelong shadowed by that word chokers.This, after all, is a…
The Lady Between Nights
The sea breathes in its sleep around the island,the air tasting of rust and rain.Every October, we grind chalk to dust,mark our doors, our gates, our windowsills—O Lady, come tomorrow.We never speak it.What if she listens? They say she walks when the world grows thin,counting the silences between heartbeats.So we keep the kettles hissing,the radios…
Split Lanes
A lazy Saturday afternoon flipping through the print pages of Wall Street Journal. I chanced upon the article “Faster, Higher, Stronger—and Full of Drugs. The Billionaire Quest to Hack Sports. Is Competitive Doping The Future of Athletics?” It touched upon a subject both fascinating and unsettling. A subject once hid behind closed doors of speculation—now…
Tariff Everything
On the coast,Each wave that broke on the rockswas assessed 25% per splash,though the foam dissolvedbefore we could collect. Storm systems were next.Cyclones entering airspacewere dinged at 40% per swirl—more if they carried rain.Hurricanes, with their heavy rotation,were penciled at an extra 60% .No one explained how to bill the wind.The files simply piled higher….
The Body Speaks
I’m the great equalizer.I’m the Human Body.Rich or poor, scholar or not,I come shaped by same quiet plan.Thirty-two teeth,for chewing ambition.Two lungs,for sighing at morning alarms.No exception, no upgrades. I keep two hundred and six bones—though you treat them like stunt props.My ribs? Twelve pairs,a flimsy picket fence around the heart.And yes, I gave you…
Sip by Sip
Testy twenties it was…The first cups were always too hot,steam rushing against my face on Shimla’s Mall Road.Books pressed to my chest, laughter spilled too easily,boys roared past on motorbikes as if noise were a language.I drank greedily, let the burn sting my tongue—wasn’t that what being young meant?To mistake heat for certainty,to sip before…
Echoes of Nilan
1. Smell of Jasmine I wasn’t looking for anything that day.Just air that didn’t reek of engine smokeand maybe a decent filter coffee,and silence on a quiet bench at the beach. But I saw her—mid-argument with a fruit vendor,mango in one hand, disdain in the other.Something about the way she stood there—elbows sharp, eyes laughing—it…
Just Wove
What she wove thenMira lifts the cloth from her lap,lets the morning sun pass through it.The threads catch the light—not gold, not silver,but something warmer.She does not speak.There are no mantras here,only breath, only cloth. The room smells like old cotton,fresh cooked rice,cardamom,memory baked into the walls.Her granddaughter sits on the floor,sketchbook open, pencil forgotten.“Is…
Reasoning
They lived in a brownstone,where silence pressed behind polished glassand Savitri worked through nightsto claim a corner of the city that never looked back.Sahana and Siya grew up in its tall-windowed light,Central Park breathing just beyond their doorstep.One chased order up glass towers,finding sense in numbers and sharp lines.The other stitched color into chaos,sketching futures…
Indistinct
“I thought you knew these hills, Muthu.”Appa always quips.Kodaikanal’s nights had a clarity,where even the cold windfelt like a familiar hand brushing past.But that was before.Before the thing that walks our streetevery other night.Before the sharp sound of ankletscut through the mist,and something cut through me. We understood nothing at first.Only that the sound camewhen…