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How I Met Him

The walls of her home in Kollam were painted in despair and that dried up her soul in all her visits since she had joined the university at Thiruvananthapuram. So, every chance she had, Arathi ran back to the acres of land and the inhabitants that didn’t judge her. It was one such evening, a cold one in June. The heat of the summer was catching up to the PG student’s lives. All heftiness of papers, journals, projects, so and so on. The bus ride from Kollam to Kazhakuttam was two and half hours long, or ten to twenty songs and a nap long. But on that edge of the day where sun parted with the clouds and the absent moon shed light instead, there was only one song in her playlist on loop. There was no nap, no sightseeing, just a song looming through her ears, dancing with her on a deserted land faraway. Her smartphone’s keyboard memorized the words ‘Rangapura Vihara by Agam’. She was excited to meet them, to be in a concert, and that too her favorite band. All along the National Highway,...

Strangers over a Dosa

Bincy’s alight into the metro city hasn’t been a smooth transition. Kochi demanded more than what she had, her strength, both physical and mental. Even she wasn’t aware of what the city had in hold for her. Always, life demanded something heavily from her. Once it was her loneliness, then a breakup, and when she finally gathered her senses, her parents sworn to their duty to marry her off. She was a good human, a kind heart. So, every time she visits home she hurries back, not to come back but only to not stay. Why would anyone want to give her away? The wit’s demise in the hold of culture has been a debate that never had an end. Inside the bus under the scorching sun, the passing wind lifted her hair a little. The curls danced on the window pane as she held her head high hoping for better challenges, maybe easier ones. Other than the soothing melody that hummed through her earphones and into her lament thoughts, she was so out of company. The driver was busy driving of course, and th...

Into you...

Deep rooted caves or pearl white shores, Into dense little cities or furnished woods I will follow the trail of your rested scent. Hopping through each stones of time One moment, one second Following them etched footprints, Through seasons, through calenders. To watch in peace, in the end What the world holds for us Just pain, or more pain? But never regrets!

The Tale of the Tommy -EP01

June 19. Happy Reading Day. On this auspicious day for a reader, I am happily introducing a new story in front of you which will be a series with episodes every week until the end. The genre of the story is a raw drama with slight suspense. It is the story of a retired police officer called back to do a small job in a prison as a favor. Read and enjoy and wait for the upcoming episodes. The Tale of the Tommy! -Sreeju Episode 1: Taking duty. The gate of the prison was heavily guarded than usual for an evening. Even though Muthukumaran hasn’t worked at one before, he knew the place from his brief visits during his service. He noticed there was a huge crowd of cameras and mics across the barrier. ‘It might be some sensational case.’ He thought. At the gate, he introduced himself and handed over an envelope. He was welcomed inside suddenly but the reaction of ...

Career: A Happiness Project!

Career If not anything, most of the youngsters in India are blessed with more than one turning point in his/her life that many of them end up in a loop after turning too much , one after another. Right after finishing the Tenth Board exams, we again take another turn during the Plus Two board exams. Some get a brief rest after that but prayers for those students who pursue Engineering or Medicine, it's the Wayanad pass for them ahead; from the entrance exams forward, every semester is a turning point. After an average of 15-18 years of toil in education, a graduate finally thinks the struggle is over for them. And a distant voice shouts 'Hold them horses, the fun ain't started yet, kid'. Their first interview, the first job, the second one, and the promotion, etc are all turning points. The person stands confused because the hero in the movies had so much time to woo the heroine, party with friends, and dance in the streets at leas...

Under the shades we thrived!

Lavender mousse like eyes, Butterfly blues in mine. Untold secrets in layers, Wrapped with dusky curls. Under the shades of still life, We marched into the day! We met without haste, No destiny to taste. We set far from nest, To the land of many tales. Under the shades of still life, We marched into the day! Your moonlit face oblivious To the noon street theatrics. Paintings blurred in puddles Canvasses branched through thoughts. Under the shades of still life, We marched into the day! We crossed armies of metal Nimble hands held tight. We crossed arrows of doubt Feeble hearts held straight. Under the shades of still life, We marched into the day! Harsh sun came down upon Pressing the burn of heat. Sour sea pulled back out Holding her breath and breeze. Under the shades of still life, We marched into the day! We laughed we lived We talked a bit All those words mouthed Not knowing time passed Under the shades of still life We settled into the day! As clouds moved over For th...

June's thirst

June drenched into her window sills Darkness of the moonlight filled her room Like ember disappearing into the tree's breath His sweat met hers over the waist line Their eyes meeting elsewhere, shut in ecstacy. Both souls rumbled wordless dances One followed the other, into an abyss. A dying star passed through the void cavern Mouths gazed as the forbidden soul's thirst was put out. Half painted walls whistled a melody damp bedsheet covers gossiped with pillows Bodies with breath floated in the night Souls met through lips, of ripe red lipstick. Birds didn't fly, cats didn't roam Clouds didn't stop, fences never closed Only the thirst remained; to live within love.

Where Lilies Fall

Where Lilies fall. “Joseph, make sure that the arch can stand the wind. Be careful.” Kevin requested the decoration supervisor as he entered the vibrant hall. It was lit with chandeliers and warm lanterns everywhere. Xavier’s recreational hall was getting ready for another event for the dusk. Facing the white-sand shores of the Indian Ocean, the place was breathtakingly beautiful. The guests were slowly pouring in and Hailey, the golden retriever, distinguished Kevin’s cologne and followed his footsteps. He stopped and gave her a ruffle over the head, as the tail wagged and ears bent backward highlighting her puppy eyes. ...

A sorry for myself!!!

Hi, I have a name, an identity, but i don't think it matters to you. It doesn't matter who I am, but the only thing that does, is what I convey. So, let's keep all the distractions aside and focus on the point. Have you ever wondered how bad we feel when we hurt someone, intentionally or not. And then when we realise what we did, gently try to sooth that blow with a magic word, 'Sorry'. Recently, I went through an incident where I was at the receiving end of an apology. That's when I noticed that, in the same way knowing my name hadn't mattered to you, that apology had no effect on me. That's when I realised after we hurt a person's feelings we apologise to them, but for ourselves. Even though it is directed to them, it's our heart that's losing weight. The apology is asked not to make a change in the other person because the damage once done is never retracted, it stays. And we know that, every time. That's how we slowly lose a soul or a...

KaYa - Collection of Stories

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