Words withheld...

It is 1987 I cry and cry, rolling inside the cradle My father understands that I want to communicate He peeps in and offers me a ti...

There is a beautiful scene in Asghar Farhadi's A Separation in which the daughter Termeh, looks silently through a window, at her mothe...

I looked at my left hand. My middle finger was missing.  Strangely, I felt no pain. That night made me realize my anger's might. I l...

Last Sunday, at around 8 AM, I was standing atop Nandi hills. The 10-member-group I had traveled with was some distance away, enjoying the ...

I recall our past and I predict our future My imaginations are clearer than my memories Perhaps our future resembles a sad song Their l...

After the visit of any family friend or relative to my home, a sweet box would rest at the center of the dining table as a token of their l...

The event described below happened two weeks ago. The delay in putting it into words is another example of the title of this post. One...