Born from the leftovers of an ancient stellar system, Raised by the collision of parochial asteroids. Misconceived, misunderstood I picked my bits, and wandered alone in the depths of lonely space. A dark, distant, cold meteor, seeking the unknown. Misconceived, misunderstood Change your trajectory, meet the world, they said. So I hurtled and jostled at […]
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I wanted to walk on the face of the earth, wanted to travel the world. Instead, my crestfallen feet took me to a bookstore, to a science-fiction isle, the biggest place in the universe. Among its crisp, fragrant pages, thousands of worlds were created and destroyed. I hitchhiked to the galaxies, and was stuck on
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The weirdest and the smallest of things inspire me. I find inspiration in a broken twig or a fallen leaf or the crust of a parched branch or in the photosynthetic relationship between the sun and nature which to me seems like a poetic fling. Trees, in general, are my biggest muses. They are nature’s
The awaited raindrops trickle from above, like a million droplets of dopamine. I celebrate with a cup full of hot tea and a pair of wiggling hands through the bars of quarantine. The acid rain leaks through my fingers, and on the concrete, it falls. The soaked street reminds me of the old man on
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When the early dawn seemed blazing, I glimpsed out of the window, and the entirety embossed like a blight. The demons in my creed kept staring, At the tear in my smile like a stubborn parasite. I yearn to shed the outfit of stress, wish to don a cactus dress, Like the shining armor of
Marie Kondo: “Keep only books that bring joy to you, ideally 30.” So I walked to the first 30 books on my shelf. They all cheerfully bobbled like golden retriever puppies. My heart was pumped with joy. I decided to keep them. Then I walked to the next 30 books, most of which were my
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You ever felt so cold, you had to put on your woolen socks, wear the warmest PJs, put on a hoodie, and rush to the bed, to envelop yourself in a cozy, fluffy blanket? You could feel your body dissolving under the covers like butter melting on a toast. You hear the delicate sound of
The book in front of me is 30 years old, first published 65 years ago, about a world created more than 70 years ago, was printed in London, found on the streets of Mumbai, has traveled over 8000 miles in the air, and is now resting cozily on a shelf in San Diego. Imagine all
Summer is here!
There is nothing more pleasurable than reading a book by the ocean with your feet buried in the warm sand and your ears hooked to the pleasant sound of waves. If you are like me, you’d not find much difference between that and in reading in your bed in your PJs, surrounded by tea and your favorite snacks. But it’s summer, though, and even us homebodies need to up our game.
I read the most number of books in a year when I did a Summer Book Bingo Challenge.
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