When I came near the tree I felt an unusual haul towards the path. The ‘uncanny path’, to be precise. Voices in my head screaming ‘do not turn’.
Nagarajan’s tea shop is one such ‘re-charging’ spot, stationed 80 yards from the vasu street signal. The shop brooked to all tests of time,
I am not begging you to love me. I’m not really even asking you to do so. But isn’t alright if I cherish that hope in my heart? If I dream of just holding your hand, it will hurt me
There on the other side of club road appeared a silhouette of a girl with an umbrella. She was holding the umbrella tilted towards left side shielding the drizzle
Among all the sounds I heard this beautiful singing like ‘queech – queech’ by these tiny brown and black shaded birds, the sparrows.