The classic struggle between a person and time!

The classic struggle between a person and time!

As she runs, trying to board the train that had just started to leave, she struggles for her balance and manages to get on the train. She sighs and mumbles to herself, “the daily struggle between a person and time”. The train then starts to pick up speed with a jerk. Looking up, seeing the same old faces smiling at her, she continues in the compartment, contemplating the monotony of her life.

Reema was a working woman with two children and a loving husband. She had already gotten so late for her work and yet again the railway added to her misery. Usually, she was good at keeping the track of time and getting everything done before the clock struck 8. But today as she took a little more time enjoying her morning tea, rotis got burnt and so did the pohas which was her children’s favourite breakfast. And eventually, cooking everything from the scratch took more time and hurriedly she left her house rushing towards the station.

Finding herself a seat, she thought if she was not even worthy of the little more time that she took. It wasn’t like her husband or the children ever complained to her about anything, but now it seemed that she had set some boundaries for herself. Just then, as the train reached the next station, a girl, in her late teens, boarded the train with two of her friends, all laughing their cheeks off.

This daily commutation between Kalyan and VT (present-day CST) was a tiresome task. But her encounters with the fellow passengers made this journey easier to bear. She hadn’t really known these girls who were standing in front of her but she had seen them often in her journey. She used to grin unknowingly seeing them as they reminded her of her own college days and her college friends who were now distant.

Today was no different, or so she thought. When one of the girls turned to her, they both stopped smiling and blankly looked into each other’s eyes for a second. The girl turned her face back to her friends and started laughing again as though nothing was wrong. It was now, that Reema realized that something about their presence was ticking her off.

She had seen this face before. She had seen these brown, almond shaped, shiny eyes before. And they were not hers but someone else’s eyes. The train arrived on different stations and departed, her destination was still far off but this new likeliness of the girl to someone she knew was troubling her. She was confused. Surprisingly, no one else seemed to notice them.

The girl looked back again. Reema couldn’t recognize if it was just a delusion or was a face that temporarily coincided with the girl’s face that she was remembering from her past. That very moment, when the girl again looked back into Reema’s eyes her train of thoughts ushered in the reverse mode.

She was back to her 19 years old self, laughing with her two best friends, Geeta and Tanvi. The three of them were walking towards the railway station, discussing the English class of the day.

‘The classic struggle between a person and time, ends in time winning’, what a boring theme to write a story on”, Geeta says.

“I think it’s cool. Might make us realize a thing or two while discovering its depths”, Tanvi replies.

Just then, Reema shouts, “Damn the lecture, our train’s leaving, hurry!”

With that, the three of them rush towards the train, that was starting to pick up speed. Reema and Tanvi manage to get on quickly, while Geeta was still trying. Reema, oblivious to this, smiles and says, “forget classic, this is the daily struggle between a person and time-”

As she says this, she hears Tanvi shout. Turning back, she realizes what went on. Geeta, failing to board the train, fell on the railway platform, hitting her head on the concrete pavement. Everyone around started shouting and they stopped the train with the emergency brakes. Reema and Tanvi rush down and run towards Geeta, who sees them nearing and says, “I-I shouldn’t have rushed. I shouldn’t have struggled… I-”, and goes silent.


Reema blinks and is brought back to her present self, staring at the kiddish, laughing eyes of Geeta, that tried to send her a message. She blinks again and the three girls are gone.

The twenty years old lesson comes to an end, as she wipes her tears away, and thinks to herself, “I shouldn’t have struggled. Not today, not twenty years back. Because in the end, time always wins.”

She ascends from the train on VT station and advances towards her workplace which was beside Saint George’s hospital, but firstly, she had to visit the hospital. She buys a bunch of flowers from the street vendor on her way. Geeta loved mogras and what more could she want, 20 years after she’d woken up from the coma. The smell of mogras and the smile of her best friend was what she had missed all this while.      

 Collaborated/co-authored with 
Vatsal Thakore
Blog link:



Mélancolie de la pluie

Mélancolie de la pluie

Mélancolie de la pluieMelancholy of the rain


The roaring clouds, the pouring clouds.

This turmoil’s instability.

The fervour of the cold winds.

The strongest petrichor.

This turmoil’s inability to sooth.


While the love of the pluviophiles

Soars high above the clouds;

The land beneath suffers a havoc

Getting drowned in the rainwater

And the noise of the chaos caused thereof


As a single drop slides on the window,

And someone’s gloomy eyes glued to it,

The mist is simply a reflection of the condition,

Of someone’s mind, of someone’s heart,

Or just turmoil going on in nature.


This lacking solace of nature

So shared by the heart, makes wonder

If the claps of thunder are the screams of joy

Or the cries of anger, led

By the daunting streaks of lightning


And then the night crawls in,

The changing hues of the sky,

Orange, pink, purple, indigo,

The shimmery stars are still dimmed though,

The rain is still boisterous though,

But the darkness hiding the dark clouds,

Tells everyone that the turmoil will end.


Why was suddenly the darkness

A sign of hope? The silence that it brought,

Better over the sound of battering rains?

For once, there were wishes of a harsh sunlight

In the sleeping night,

In the hopes of it vaporizing the flooded chaos.


But nature takes its own sweet time,

Time to weep, time to unwind.

Collaborated/co-authored with 
Vatsal Thakore
Blog link:

‘Can a man still be brave if he’s afraid?’

‘Can a man still be brave if he’s afraid?’

‘Can a man still be brave if he’s afraid?’

What do you interpret from these lines? Would you be afraid to do something that you’d like to do? Do you have inhibitions in your mind regarding something that is completely normal?

The above questions are legitly being asked by your brain to your heart and all you do is shut these thoughts down and bury them in the darkest corners of the subconscious mind.

But, yet again, to my mind, I ask, Why? What is it that inhibits me?

And this time, instead of answering my questions, my mind drags me deep within the self-doubts. Something that I’d thought of as a petty thought and buried, was a seed that grew into an enormous bush, now trying to tie me in its entangling branches.

Slowly and steadily, I start getting my answers. Some things, I never even knew would bother me, had me getting afraid of doing the thing that I loved.

I look outside my window and hear the rustle of the leaves. Look at how freely they wander and go with the flow. I feel a sense of realization on how the filtration and constant evaluation of each and every thought has created a huge block inside this tiny brain. And inhibition has a huge role to play in it.

Even now, when I want to pen down my thoughts, I can’t. I want to go out there and explore, I can’t. I want to close my eyes and sleep, but I can’t.

I am inhibited. I am obstructed.

But, yet again, to my mind, I ask, Why? What is it that inhibits me?

And, yet again, to you, I ask, Why? What is it that inhibits you?

Collaborated/co-authored with
Vatsal Thakore
Blog link:


Completely Opposite!

Completely Opposite!

In this technology-driven world, I sit behind this 15.02 x 10.08 inches gadget typing something and then deleting it again.

My creative space is somehow invaded by this thing called noise. The construction going on outside my window, on the ground, three floors below my house is creating a lot of it.

I’ve always been fond of silence. Silence doesn’t kill me neither it creates a void. Silence provides me with the clarity and transparency of my soul. My soul has been tormented for a various reason but silence provides me with an escapade. This is because I am a loud person, I am an extrovert and I am someone who’s just curious all the time.

You know, sometimes, you need something which is exactly the opposite of you. You need calmness if you’re a whacky person and you need a hint of craziness if you’re someone who prefers to stay silent. The fact that opposites attract is applicable in the majority of the cases here.

That is because somewhere or the other your soul is a mixture of both the things. You can’t just be or have one single thing and hold it for the rest of your life. Accepting the fact that a human is made of both good and evil is seldom done.

Things change, right? You experience and you turn into a better person. And this will only come when you figure out all the aspects of life and not grip on to something which is singular.

As fondly said, ‘Change is the way of life’, and I hereby abide by it and say that ‘indeed it is’.

Be different. Be completely opposite of what you are. And there my friend you will find all the stories and the experiences you tell to your future self.



A mind with the void!

A mind with the void!

I take my pen and I put it down,

My forehead is now adorned with a frown,

Why can’t I put my words on to this paper?

All my thoughts have turned into vapours.


I don’t know what to do,

I don’t know, isn’t there anything new?

I have always feared this moment,

I don’t want to go through this torment.


Can anybody put some thoughts?

In my mind,

A void I find.


People expect me to write,

They expect me to fight,

But can’t they see me suffer?

Oh, they’ve always worn a shutter,

Never leaving a chance to mock,

They simply cannot understand my writer’s block.


The ‘D’ Word.

The ‘D’ Word.

Disclaimer: This is non-fictional. Any Resemblance to real life is purely intentional.


Everyone has their own story.
I have mine, too.
And, I don’t know where to start from.
Everything is so messed up right now.
I feel I could end my life now and dwell in peace.

Dealing with a dysfunctional family is not an easy thing. It requires a lot of patience. Trust me, a lot.
However, the problem here isn’t really family.

It is me. It is my mind. And mindlessly I escape into its wonderment.
People say I suffer from ‘depression‘, but what I really feel is that I am just in need of some sleep. Even while writing this, I feel a bit sleepy-breezy-tipsy.

I had led a perfectly normal life before. Good grades. Good boyfriend. Good family. My life lacked imperfections and now when every imperfection has dawned on me, I don’t know what to do.

You know what they say, good people get a good life. And so I’ve been ‘good’ all my life. Set aside the troubling thoughts and focused. But, trust me that has yielded into nothing.

You would feel this is not an extraordinary story nor something which people would like to read. But, to tell you the truth, this is the story of over 5crore people in our country. The study says India is the most depressed country.
But, why should you be bothered by that? You’re perfectly fine, right?

Before writing this, I knew, it wouldn’t affect most of you. But I’m here for the ‘few’.

I had felt I could end my life and dwell in peace.

I couldn’t.

This is my story.

And now that you’ve heard me enough, let me tell you, you’re going to be absolutely fine. Do not fear to speak up the ‘D’ word, and tell your story.

Dawn of an Idea!

Dawn of an Idea!

On a Drowsy Sunday morning, when the sun had just uncovered its face, I lie awake. Wide-eyed, staring at the ceiling.

It seems that I’ve been doing that for a really long time. Wondering about life and death, success and failure and imagining all sorts of bizarre situations.

Usually, on weekends I do not move from my bed until the clock strikes twelve. But, today was different. I woke up, in the wee hours of the morning and couldn’t go back to sleep. Deprived of sleep, the train of my thoughts started gaining an acceleration.

After speculating on random things, I try to focus on the present moment and it strikes me that this is the time when our empty mind welcomes some of the most astounding ideas. The mind is as fresh as the dew drops on the grass.

However, with the greater idea and the fresher concept, comes what we really resent – The hard work.

Millions of people have billions of ideas; however, we hear only a few names that really turned their vision into reality. In this world, where even groceries are available online, we lack the effort and not the ability to turn the world upside down.

Whoever said that “It’s the effort which counts” has been very true.

So, such ideas which tunnel up into your brain in the early hours of dawn are worthy. Act upon it, Make it big and show the world what a great idea you have.