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Made in Madras

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Having a room collected up with possessions that harmonize a colour in its different shades for a schoolboy in a city like Chennai is lousily unfashionable but, without weirdos around what would we smile about on the inside, let's be real.  From the deliberated choice of coarse sheets to pillowcases to the mahogany teak dressing table to the fluffy bath towel left carelessly over the four post bed frame to the wardrobe attached to the wall on the other end to the carpet beneath, every eventual property was down to the colour red. He rushes upstairs grabbing his coffee by the hand, still inside the maroon jersey worn to bed last night, to the terrace, past the clothesline anticipating he should be on time. Chennai's mid-morning sun does not actually scorch through the damp fabric. He quickly refashions his face to absolutely disinterested and eyeshots impassively at the 9 AM scheduled tushy, cute as a cinnamon roll stride past his house to work. This custom was forev...
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A Wall Story

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Walls have ears. Though I haven't had the chance to underpin that assertion, it is true. I do have ears and I listen to you and your spaces.  I connect the spaces in this apartment that are home to quite a handful of people.  Not far upstairs is a mother who has stayed home from work for her sick son in bed, he is hardly in pain. Whatever this is, this is not even close to bothering him, he sips at his liquid food and looks up nonchalantly to see his mother's disturbed face that refuses to leave, that resembles of glass, that might crackdown anytime with the anxiety inside.  He decides whether or not to say maybe this was how he felt when Nemo was leaving them slowly when his fins got infected inside their aquarium tank.  He decides not to since he knows it is a greater chance that he might be told to shut his mouth and eyes.  He reckons how miserable and futile his world would be without his mother around. Oh, I don't suppose he can be even aware of...
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Six Year Old Man

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How well do you know the faces of people you know? I ascertain, well enough to distinguish from a mass. the features of the human face, if you list out are quite narrow and yet every last one of the seven billion is unique in its build. This baffled my mind as an eleven-year-old boy.  On the day I was born, the joy around me was quite a satire. An orofacial cleft is not anything parents yearn for their children.  Last that I remember, my sixth birthday disclosed what my face contaminated of. Apparently, not many nostrils engulfed upper lips like mine did.  When friends from school played Rugby, I visited my special team of lanky tall dudes in sky white suits. They took quite some pride with their assignment on, if you guessed right, me. I hung out whatever I hung out with Jo, an awesome guy, with a weird never-quenching thirst for science. We most certainly had great a lot of friends but with Jo I had more fun and we laughed a lot. I scored great in attention,...
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confetti from the skies.

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Chennai. Sunday April 26 2020 With my copy of "The God of Small Things" beside me I was quite asleep till 4 AM when my feet felt uncomfortably cold. A sudden urge to fetch more rugs and sheets or maybe a blanket crept up. Also, to my discovery, I had used the living room for the night. Guess I couldn't be bothered after binge reading the entire evening.  It's dark outside and now(6:45 AM) when I decided to write this, it's still dark. Cold walls. Cold feet. Wind hooting through. Occasional hits of lightning and a heavy, stingy shower of water outdoors. Thunderstorm. Or at least, my smartphone says so. 35°/24° Cloudy. Thunderstorm. My nose tip's probably turned icy and I so badly wanted to warm myself up. It kind of scared me when the first thing I registered was this tall huge purple figure moving on to me, which was actually the curtains that were a metre away from my couch, swaying back and forth. Quick fact:- I can be lazy. And with mornings lik...
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