“The assurance that I am going to have a meal tonight is enough to satiate my hunger.” As I considered turning around, I could feel the delivery boy’s gaze. Unable to make up my mind about looking at a face that would soon be beyond recall, I continued in my monologue, “There’s a five hundred… Continue reading
Another one from the “high bohemian” archives. This story is where I crossed over to being a “mature” writer. It is quite poetic that it should be a coming of age story. Happy reading! We grew up in a time when airports served the best coffee. For every drink on earth, there is an appropriate… Continue reading
This story was first published in “the high bohemian”, 2020. The blog has since been retired but the story like all good things lingered on. As its echoes reached back to me, I decided to give it a new home here. I invite you to read on, without further ado. Wednesday was a good day…. Continue reading
“Karma sits on his bench, studying the old footage. Not that the film is of any particular interest to him. He attentively studies the Raman Raghav tapes, minus the sound. The woods of his bench have exhausted the murmurs and mischief soaked in from the few hobbyists that had ever justified the existence of such a property. Karma is counting the last of his nights, every waking moment dreading the day. He has never been truly alone. He hasn’t the brightest mind, but what he understands once stays. He knows how living alone changes a man. He longs for a human voice. As long as he could hear their voices, he could remain human—a spirit bound to flesh, holding onto its sanity.”
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