YELLOW-STREET-LIGHT

She leaves the trails For her  Young whites,Vacating all slow. Maybe these Nights are her last.

FOOD-WITH-A-PAST.

I realised, Food is like Language; It has its own identity.

INDIAN STREET PHOTOGRAPHY.

Not all are hypnotised by the screen.

THE INDIAN TASTE.

While I see most following and admiring the West, and each trying to fit in the 'Set-Standards', I can't help my pure Indian taste, be that in music or in  the diverse traditional-food. Though no grudges against the Lovers of West, you have your freedom of choice and they've been worth at times. It rather...

EVENING-HAWKER

"Naariyal ladoo...Amaavat..Chiniya bèdaam" It's been over a decade I last saw him; the evening hawker. Those were days when we relied on neighbour's telephone and the PCO to contact our relatives. The initial years of the century, my house on the outskirts of a beautiful Indian town; Hazaribagh. Those years, barely ten houses stood in...

GUNS and ROSES.

Bragging her history of blood.

The Herd Which Pulled Her Back.

Silence bellowing at its top, pierced her ears. The wood-shaded shelves tried hard to fill the large void of that room. Library, she assumed secluded her from every boundary of the world, but that evening changed her perception. She saw his face on every book, which sitting on its bed called- out for her to...

THE INTERVIEW THAT PORTRAYED THE LIVES OF TWO INDIAN WOMEN.

"I am depressed. He has been abusing me for the last 3 days",she said wiping her rheumy eyes with the edge of her maroon cotton saree spreading the kohl. "Were you at fault anyway?"burst out the impatient,young and so-called educated lady which left the woman startled. Transfixing her vision on the red-bricked flooring she started-off...