KhepiAri

Photo belongs to rightful owner I have a train to catch in next three hours. Instead of fearing the heat I am going to face tomorrow, my thoughts are stuck on a particular dog eating leftover from our dinner on the wet pavement outside my home. She has lost all her fur, her body is crafted with infection and scars. Once she was glorious but at present she is in terrible pain because of the incurable skin disease she caught. For last ten days, she has been part of our conversation on dinner table and before sleep talk. My mom had tried to stop her itching with talcum powder for pets. Another household tried to stop the infection with turmeric powder while another person used vermilion to kill the pest in her body. In honesty I would say she would better be dead. A nice, adorable and friendly dog like her deserves better life, but more important a pain free death. Thrice I had planned to be the psychopomp for her, thrice the plan remained executed in my head. I have...

I love reading books. I absolutely adore the paperbacks, hardcover, ragged, torn books. I cherish the first touch of the cover, I love inhaling the fresh smell of printed pages or the old dust smell with yellow patches make me weep. I love all kinds of books from glossy paper to coarse paper, from low brow to high brow language, from serious novel to comic books anything everything. I can now read e-books too! But I cannot read books once they are prescribed in my course work. Yes at this moment I hate Vanity Fair for its length, but when I was in ninth grade I had swooped through the pages in three days. I enjoyed the sexual tension between Catherine and Heathcliff. I enjoyed imagining my own Wuthering Heights. Now I loathe the book when I realise the real age of the characters being less than twenty, who am I kidding when Catherine returns all refined and ladylike she is just ten! The novel White Teeth sits on my lap and my own set of white teeth grit at colourful cover of th...

*My condolences lie with the victims of Earthquake in Nepal, but we can always use little humor to cheer up I think* Yesterday I was sitting on my veranda and enjoying the sudden breeze that decided to sooth our burning skin from heat, my vision engulfed a house standing alone within the green field. I can see this decorated bricked house from southern side of my caged veranda. This crafted house has a pompous household and a beautiful garden which my landlady and I envy during the fleeting spring. I kept sweating and turning pages when I heard the commotion of closing iron doors from this house. I looked up to find the mistress of the household hurrying out of the gates again to turn around to enter the house. On other side of the gate, her chariot, the battery operated Tuktuk and its driver grumbled. My curiosity peeked up by leaps and bound and I morphed into the railings of my veranda. To see and listen to her.  The woman in orange saree came ...