The Soliloquy


Its eight already. Sigh… guess it’s too late now. I mean it isn’t like I am desperate. I have stayed in before on Saturday nights. I like being by myself. No…really. I mean I have Netflix and Winnie my cat…its not so bad. But…but he could have at least called. Well, he hasn’t until now, so I guess he isn’t so much into me after all or maybe he likes someone else. Sigh… whatever. Continue reading “The Soliloquy”


The Bonding

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On most mornings, when the sky is clear, he can see them from his side of the fence. She, hanging the laundry, humming “Sometimes when we touch” by Dan Hill, her soothing tune gently floating with the soft breeze in their combined backyards. The Amaltas, a bit jaded by its lone existence, pleased by her presence, appears mesmerised, the melody sending an involuntary shudder down its spine, triggering the unsuspecting leaves into a frenzy.   Continue reading “The Bonding”

An Enchanting Afternoon


The December air on the narrow freshly tarred lane in Jew town, Kochi, is thick with the heady fragrance of pungent spices – ginger, cloves, cardamom, pepper.

On either side of the road stand identical two storied structures with thatched roofs, their windows opening into the streets; some are painted in vibrant colours, others left dilapidated. Once the animated homes of Jewish families, are now bustling shops bursting at their seams with antiques, mirrors, wall hangings, paintings, lamps, Chinese urns, door frames, old brass locks, and glass and porcelain ware for sale; items that were once a part of churches or homesteads of Jewish families before their exodus in the first half of 20th century. Continue reading “An Enchanting Afternoon”

The Alchemist




It is Saturday morning; they are in her kitchen.

He watches her play with dough, eggs, vanilla, cinnamon, chocolate; her fingers delicately plotting, plucking, kneading, pounding; her expression displaying intense concentration, face powdered with dough.

Sensing his eyes on her, she looks up. Pushing back a tuft of hair from her face with the back of her dough laden hand, she smiles. The smile reminds him of Wispy, the cat next door, and her contended purr after a meal of fish and rice, the light of life smouldering in its eyes. Continue reading “The Alchemist”

Apollo and Daphne

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He had run into her at the supermarket.

She had walked in, the summer breeze billowing around her printed floral skirt. Meeting her there was most unexpected; it was like a daisy had grown in a perfectly manicured lawn, where it wasn’t supposed to, amidst a host of Bougainvillea, Hibiscus and Gerbera, and yet had brought in more beauty to the garden.  Continue reading “Apollo and Daphne”



Anna Kingston
St. Peter’s Care Home
13th Avenue,
Whitfield Road
Bradford BD1xxx

April 3, 1997

Dear Anna

I am writing to you from Sheffield.

I know I haven’t come down to Bradford to meet you at the Care Home in a while. Heather and the baby are with me at the moment since Peter’s gone to London for army training session for three months. Heather isn’t yet too comfortable looking after the baby on her own. We have done up the study room as the nursery for now and the baby seems to love it. Continue reading “DEAR ANNA..”




side by side

endless ladders of heaven

a journey
more captivating
the destination.

tuned to a perfect fifth

place one
on the left shoulder
then draw the other
across the first
in a slow, deliberate motion

like the bow of a violin
a perfect arco

and then get carried far away

as far as the legs can take…