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There’s something about the eyes. They betray what words try to hide. They hold stories—of love, loss, quiet surrender, and battles fought in silence. Some scream for help. Others, long silenced, just stare back—empty, resigned. You don’t need to be an eye surgeon to see it. Life teaches you, if you’re paying attention. But for… Read more

“Ijaa, I am 51 years old… 51! Don’t worry about me.” But she still does. She still asks where I’m going, with whom, and when I’ll be back. When I tease her, she sulks. “I’m not worried… just asking. Do I not have that much right?” And then, just as quickly, “Okay, won’t ask… you’re… Read more

Have you ever felt it? That quiet fading? The slow slipping away?   One day, you’re *everything*—the name people mention, the presence that turns heads. Your words carry weight. Doors open before you even knock. You don’t chase opportunities; they chase you. And somewhere deep inside, you start to believe—*maybe this will last forever.*  … Read more

For the longest time, I believed love meant giving until I had nothing left. I poured myself into others, carried burdens that weren’t mine, and absorbed pain that never belonged to me. I thought love required self-sacrifice—that to prove I cared, I had to shrink, to bend, to mold myself around someone else’s needs. But… Read more

“You look tired.” She watches me innocently ,curiosity flickering in those wide, unburdened eyes. She is radiant, untouched by time, her heart brimming with hope. “No,”I smile, shaking my head. “Not tired. Just… older. Wiser.” “Have you done it?”“she asks eagerly. “The things we dreamed of? Have you fought for them?” I exhale, my fingers… Read more

As I look back and bid adieu to this city of moksha—the redemption of faith, fear, and FOMO—my heart is overwhelmed. Or is it emptied? Because I feel stunned… How do I even explain it? How do I put into words the truth that you can never truly grasp the essence of Mahakumbh unless you… Read more

There’s a quiet magic in a life untethered, a rhythm that hums softly in the creak of iron trunks, the scent of polished boots, and the rustle of olive greens.Growing up as an army kid wasn’t just a childhood; it was a way of life, a legacy of being Born, Raised, And Transferred (code name… Read more

I have spent years searching for you. Chasing shadows, following whispers, reaching for something that always seemed just a little out of reach. You appeared in fleeting moments—just long enough to make me believe I had found you—only to slip away again, leaving me grasping at the emptiness you left behind. You are a trickster.… Read more