A Dreamer's Dreams

I knew the texture of my days there— the familiar components of the table, the weight of the chair, I knew what tomorrow would ask of me. I ...

When I picture winters in Duliajan, the first thing that blooms in my mind is a riot of Chrysanthemums and Dahlias—so many colours, so many ...

Duliajan will always hold a piece of my soul. I remember the many rainy days—how I would watch from the window, mesmerized by the gulmohar a...

I was savoring a bowl of rice flakes with dried berries softened in curd when a loose chain of thoughts began to unfurl. It started with the...

No vows were spoken, none were needed; those moments were heavy, unbearably long, incessantly agonising. He said nothing of love but staye...

Today, as I drifted through a random playlist, Jason Mraz’s “I Won’t Give Up” began to play—an unexpected melody slicing through the monoto...

He was the bottomless abyss hungrily devouring every fleck of light a distortion, not the truth. She crossed the desert of his absence, w...