It was like being shot at by arrows in the chest, which when taken out would cause more pain than before. Sometimes I can’t help but wonder how much a man has to endure before its over, once and for all.
A drop of love can heal an ocean of pain.
At times redemption can only be sought through isolation.
A rose without its thorns would be too perfect to be admired. Similarly, people without imperfections would be apathetic.
One can’t be on the topmost rung of a ladder from before, it takes time to reach it, to climb it, one at a time. We struggle so that in this process of climbing we can learn, so that we can limit our impatience and grow stronger than we ever imagin...
Life is an illusionist, proficient at its art. It proves to be bitter, an adversary But is indeed a friend in disguise, a silent well wisher. It forces us into arduous stations and assesses our limitations. It guides us to the path of defeat, even so...
Death is a poison parsley on a dessert wine.
Deny a man pleasure, the possession of woman’s body and he will show you his true colors. He will dismiss his frustration onto her, forcibly abuse her, offend her all at the cost of his desires, the fulfillment of his this basic appetite. And if yo...
There’s this thing about shadows. They mimic us. They are a constant reminder of the fact that we are not alone, we are never alone. They follow and they obey much like a disciple and his teacher. But when in darkness, they abandon us and are as lo...
And one day when you wake up, you happen to realise that your battle isn’t with the man you had got into a brawl with the other day, it isn’t with a friend turned foe, it isn’t with those parents who chose to give up on you, it isn’t with the...
Endings are abstruse, mystic and unreal. They are but depleted beginnings purposed to be substituted with newer ones.A transition of outlook and time, similar to our differing moods before and after slumber. Before the act we witness an exhaustion, a...
Do you believe that our stories were written from before that we are but actors performing on the stage called life with neither rehearsals nor retakes, the dialogues of our own and a fleeting audience or are you someone who pens down his own story?
The rope longed-for her beloved, the ceiling hook. The suspended body; a harbinger of good news. Love was lost. Love was found.
Sometimes you need to take the chance and risk it all. Everything might come to an abrupt end or lead to a prosperous beginning either way you would have got your answers, answers you happened to seek which will only be given to you when you ask for ...
