’Twas a bleak evening. Unwarranted rains lashed against the window while Narnia deleted the clump of text on her screen—her feeble efforts at writing an article.
It’d been a while since she’d strung one sentence to another, in perfect coherence, forging each paragraph as worthy as the next one. All established writers face this, she assured herself. Except that her first publication was still due.
As she crumped the metaphorical piece of paper that held her desperate story, she stumbled upon something rather uncanny.
In retrospect, that was her impetus to publish her first novel, and many subsequent ones.
A tribute to The Daily Post. It meant a lot to me.
The best thing about dining out—apart from the fancy interior and fine food—is the classy glasses. Add a straw and it makes me feel extra pampered—like a child.
My fellow diner was a colleague I didn’t know much about. We’d travelled together for a work event and had to share a meal one evening. And our choice of beverage, much like us, was so different. It was a nice moment of contrasting liquids.
Sometimes in life you don’t realise how much you love doing something unless you’ve stopped doing it altogether. For instance, I didn’t know how much I enjoyed travelling until I found myself sitting alone in a large room sorrounded by too much space yet too little fresh air, reminiscing the good old days. This particular photo happened in Thekkady, Kerala.
Though mind was aware:
marriage meant more than money,
week wages weakened.
Made the girls jealous,
and the boys sway in madness
now, a wall hanger.
I came across this piece of handiwork on a trip to Kodaikanal. We drove along the famous Kodaikanal lake and saw that plenty of shops lined the streets. We walked into one, and there sat this piece of repurposed material. The hair was so black and so shiny, it made me jealous. I couldn’t leave without capturing it.