The Snake Bite

Do you have a person in your life that you’d call if you got bit by a snake in the middle of the night? Your parents? At the cost of a stroke or a heart attack?
A friend? Someone you knew wouldn’t waste time on lecturing you and making you feel it’s your fault.
A sibling, a cousin. Who?
It’s 4 am in the night(or morning) as I write this. And I can’t think of a single person I can call anymore. Snake bite or worse. I’d even feel guilty in calling the Wildlife department. Even those folks need their sleep.
Here’s to letting the poison seep into your blood, till you’re asphyxiated. Because in the end, a snake bite is a true test of how much you mean to the people around you.

Why do you smile, woman?

selective focus photography of smiling woman wearing gray dress dancing

Photo by cottonbro on

What do you have to smile for? Whose freedom do you celebrate? Born against the struggles of patriarchy, I see you struggling through the reins in hands of men. Dying a lonely death, unappreciated, who do you live for, when will it end?

My mother does not speak perfect English or teach me physics when I need her to. She tells me God created the universe and one day scientists will believe it too. My mother stands alone in the heated summer of July, next to the burning flame, bringing infinite particles together to feed me.

And when she looks at me with desperation in her eyes to see me become someone she aspired to be, I understand. She does not smile for what is. She smiles for what is yet to be.



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When I speak, I break

I don’t want my dreams to be high horses I can’t reach the back of

I’m not asking for a rainbow farting unicorn

There is no expectation of a big house with all the things I can live without

I do not think about lavish lives,

having things as soon as I fantasise

I’m the tiniest marvel of a vast universe

Dreading the day it all turns worse

My eyes open each day expecting a small miracle

But my eyesight it seems is a bit hazy still

My heart beats itself up over the lack of faith

And my mind, it can’t even start thinking straight

the blood pumping in my veins slows down when i see

my reflection staring back at me,

The me I could have been,

if I wasn’t lucky

I don’t smile a lot with people I don’t know, even lesser with the people who know me

There’s a hell lot of I in everything that I write

I deliberately do it out of spite

I speak and I break

My insecurities into fear and hate

Barbed Wire Mentality

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Petr Pavlensky, The Carcass

What can you do but write and expect it to pass through the obscenity of the world? I come from a place where home is not a sanctuary but a cage and one prefers the scintillating sharp edges of barbed wire to the comfortable homes of a yet-to-burn colony.

My words, they tell me, will soon be overshadowed by the pictorial misrepresentations of situations people have preconceived notions about. And yet I sit here, trying to pierce through the thick hearts of those who can’t see beyond the imagery of a naked man in barbed wire.

“Nakedness is a sign of obscenity, vulgarity and something a commoner wouldn’t perceive as art.”

But do you see the metaphorical pain of a haphazard artist who thought to feel the cuts of a razor-edge wire as a way to show the world what my words are unable to? He bared his body and his mind to the world through the pictures challenging the repressive policies of Big Brother but what would you, the commoner know about it?

You would just look at the lines of his body and the shadows they cast and laugh about the girl who thought she could write something to sway your eyes on the black and white of the screen. But here’s to hoping I manage to do it.

The barbed wire mentality is not that of the ignorant who are too innocent to know any better. Nor is it of geniuses who know everything and thus, prefer not to interfere. It is mine and yours- the inbetweeners who shrug our shoulders when it is time to roll up our sleeves. It is the “what would happen” thought one discards right before burning down someone’s livelihood. It is the aftermath of a failure of conscience and the hundreds of consciousnesses it darkens along.

The barbed wire isn’t for the educated or the illiterate or the rich or the poor. It does not help the strong or crush the weak. I must say, there, it does not discriminate. But hate is an inevitable conclusion of fifteen streets closed with razor-sharp wires.

And fear is a tagalong that peeks out from the backseat.

I come from a city that has not burned in seventy-five years to the extent that it burns today. But it is the barbed-wire mentality that will decide whether the fire is for light or destruction. We are all prisoners of our minds and must inevitably surrender to our own subconscious thoughts.

Here’s to hoping we don’t become monsters in the end, too large for the cages that confine us.

The writer is the editor-in-chief of

1001 stories: Pebble


He never got noticed, but she did. He got trampled upon by the voyeurs who came for a glance of her.

He was quite down-to-earth, standing amidst sand and dirt, rolling around with the kicks of the people who occasionally did bend down to touch him, as if giving him hope- hope that one day he would be worth something too.

She was magnificent in her vastness, flowing with the wind and dancing to its tunes making a melody of her own that enticed people, enchanted them and wanderers looked with awe in their eyes at something quite beyond their embrace.

He would sit amidst thousands like him, noticing the one scratch, one shade, one shape that made him stand out from the crowd of all those worthless, shapeless sturdy fighters who were also struggling in the sand.

And yet, on days like these, he would feel like there is no difference at all, for the fate of them all was the same. Beginning and ending with the same handful of dust that it had emerged from.

She was stretched beyond imaginations to the places as far as eyes could see and often beyond that as well. She stood noisly alone, yet calm and composed with her worth imprinted on the faces of those who came from far and wide just to touch her.

There may be others like her, but none dared to step into the domain that was solely and unabashedly hers. When she was around, there was no way any entity could even come close to stealing away her spotlight. Her charm wouldn’t allow such a thing to happen.

Things changed after a while though and he grew more and more restless. She shrunk more and more into her shell. He wanted a way out. She was being reduced to a mere nothing.

And then there is today

She awoke to the spark of first sunlight that danced on her skin like a thousand diamonds. He felt it burn his skin as it got reflected off from her.

A girl came and sat next to this enchanting beauty with him right next to her feet. But her focus wasn’t on her but on him as she picked him up in her palms and touched it ever so lightly. She pulled her hand back and allowed him to fly for the first time in his life, rising high above all others, if only for a moment before he drowned inside her, falling deep and deeper.

And that’s how a pebble on a sandstone beach met the salty sea.


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Oh world of mine

Oh lover, disappointment be thy name.
A minute stretched to hours, less figuratively.
All words are farse, truth is a lie in itself.
Oh lover, contentment be my name.
Patience turned to lack of self worth.
All lies etched deep into my skin, believing everything.

Oh mother, what world have you brought me into.
The dreams lie tattered around me
Half-realised to frustrating extents.

Oh father, what strong walls you’ve built around me.
They cage my heart within the body they’re meant to safeguard.
Crushing me as I dare to breathe.

I’ve lost more than I found

I found a friend, a brother, a magnanimous soul.

I lost a lover, a decent human being.

I found shelter, care, support and warmth.

I lost it the second I walked out without a second glance.

This time, the fault was mine. I take entirety of the blame, but isn’t it true that I did give second, third and many chances to you?

This is why, I mind catching feels for another. This is why, I avoid labels and commitments with others.

Wrong time, wrong word, wrong place, wrong circumstance and easily it could have been changed.

I just don’t know how.

I’ve never done this before, remember?

And if you go now, I’ll never do this. Never.

And if you stay now, and forgive

Then perhaps and maybe

I have been right to catch feels.