We are one movie away from transforming into a different person. Movies shape perspectives and in doing so, movies shape people and the lives they lead. I don’t particularly believe that the intent of making a movie should per se deal with giving out a social message or any message...

1:
 All kinds of clothes worn around the globe should have pockets.

Once upon a time, because nobody starts stories with once upon a time anymore, my brother told me he is vehemently against the institution of marriage and that he would never subscribe to it.

1: I read somewhere that a Scottish artist, Katie Paterson, has curated “The Future Library Project”. It started in 2014 with the idea of exploring time and trust as a concept. Every year, one chosen writer gets to submit a book that will not be read/seen/scrutinized by anyone for another...

Firstly, if you are in a position to make this negligent statement, stop and recheck your privileges. The audacity to categorize basic rights, day-to-day struggles, and horrendous social issues as just “negativity” could come from a space of — 1: You belong to a certain class, caste, and gender that is...

At the end of the day, all I want is to collapse in someone’s arms and forget the uncertainties of life. I don’t want to be the labels that I’m assigned, to play my part effectively while I’m here. I don’t want to win. I don’t want to lose. I seek a...

Earlier this year, I read anxious people. This was a line that appeared in that book that stuck to me long after I finished it. I particularly do not memorise or recollect lines and quote them like writers often do. If it naturally happens, it happens. I don’t force...

Raj rushed to Karan’s room, sweating profusely, pointing his fingers mid-air. Worried at how much he was panting, Karan followed him to the hall. Raj and Karan were taken aback by what they saw. Raj nudged Karan with his elbow to take control over the situation. Karan immediately grabbed...

1: They don’t ask you questions. They don’t give you unsolicited opinions. Silently, they take a walk to the nearby grocery store. No, they still don’t use blinkit. Then, they pick up a few spices, vegetables, and exactly half a kg of chicken. On the way back, they look...

A silent afternoon is often underestimated. Activity drops and life gradually slows down, leaving you soft and vulnerable. A frame of time that permits you to do nothing, be nothing. That's all most of us need. What are we going to do after the chase ends? Here, the room...

// Cut to flashback // We have decided to watch Merry Christmas. It’s an uneventful afternoon. On the way, my friends ask me to pull over for a smoke. Two drags in, G looks like she’s been doing some intense thinking. I just stare at them smoking. “We should find someone...

1: Kavya awkwardly stared at the plate, not knowing how to eat. Pooja waited patiently for her to act. A moment later, she offered, "Can I?" Kavya reluctantly nodded. Pooja gently took the plate of Parotta in front of her, slowly tearing it into small pieces using both hands. She poured the...

She sat reading an article intently on the train when someone snatched the glasses in her hand. Shocked, she turned around to find a familiar face from an unfamiliar time – an uncle who was once a family friend. She was happy to meet him and offered to have...

Lonely black bindis on the corner of your mirror that reminds you of the forehead you kissed dearly. Collection of Pablo Neruda poems that first drive your interest towards poetry and then inevitably make you fall in love with it.

1. Never feel shy to ask for two things in life - Food and Sex.

It was a normal afternoon, the one where everybody was lazing around, and nothing really happened. I was heading to lunch when I received a message from a friend who rarely texts. The message read: "You know what? Ramesh Sir got fired." I replied: "Oh. Damn. Why? What happened?"

When Radha and Harshitha were 12, they conducted Bhagwad Gita competitions in their school. Harshitha always teased Radha for taking it too seriously, for going the extra mile to get everything right - the verses, the tone, the pronunciations.

Few weeks back, I was traveling to Chennai with my sister and brother-in-law. Usually, I am very excited to visit because everything about Chennai feels home. Truly, whoever said it, said it right - Vandharai Vazhavekkum Chennai.

I hate open endings. I always wanted all the loose ends to be tied, every missing piece justified, and the whole concept of 'It all happens for a reason' precisely figured out.The words ‘THE END’ gave me a distinctive sense of satisfaction.

I've been wondering if writing can come to me without needing to impress or add value. Just writing everything that comes to my mind with no filter, no edit, the entirely unadulterated version of things with complete incoherence through and through - Every random thought that crosses by.

Nishanth and Shruthi sat down every evening to untangle their differences bit by bit. He was a pure vegetarian. She was a pure non-vegetarian. She liked her clothes ironed. He never cared about clothing. Social media, she enjoyed thoroughly.

We have not been taught to cope with death. I’m not even sure if that can be taught. Over the years, confronting this fundamental principle of the universe, a day-to-day occurrence has left me with different lessons at different points in life.

We have not been taught to cope with death. I’m not even sure if that can be taught. Over the years, confronting this fundamental principle of the universe, a day-to-day occurrence has left me with different lessons at different points in life.

He writes and writes and writes and every piece has a void that echoes "Somebody save me".

It’s been more than 10 years roughly since we’ve been on a family trip. My memory fails to even remember the last time it happened.

So much time has passed by since then. From that day forward, I’ve hopped on from moment to moment in a perpetual state of nothingness. Unaware of the chaos, unaware of my sense of self.

Love smiles sheepishly, lingers at your doorstep, and blooms in mundane moments. It nudges into your life, bares through your annoyingly loud snores, and laughs at your terribly-phrased jokes.

By and large, only in a very rare event, do people wonder what Blossoms is. Anyway, for those of you unaware, Blossoms is a landmark where books old, new, and rare are loved in the happening streets of Church Street, Bengaluru.

It’s been three days. I have a severe headache. A persistent pricking sensation at the sides of my forehead.

Every now and then, we are met with kind gestures when a stranger offers a hand of help

“Can you pass me a lighter?”, he says to the waiter as he sits in a pub waiting for Sameera.