KhepiAri

Attempted Flash Fiction:- belongs to rightful owner, PC- Google There are days when I fall under spells; today was one freshly lit afternoon that had charmed me. I was seated on my coarse blue seat and looking out of the window. I was under two spells. My feet rested on the empty seat opposite to mine, my black slippers cowering under its vacant space in the shadows. The green outside was rushing past my vision and the sunlight was making it hard for my eyes to keep staring outside for long. It was one of those days when rain had wiped off the dirt from sky and the smell of wet earth was numbing all other senses except the olfactory glands. My fellow passenger on right was fast asleep; her toes curled in dreams, her knees pulled to her swollen chest and her face half hidden in white dupataa, blocking the sunlight. As the train kept gushing on her tracks, I saw her body getting swayed softly on the blue berth. The mauve kurta and jeans she was in highlighted her outlin...

At twenty two, people had written poems, lead revolutions, bled for love, fought for country, worked for NASA, found new medicines for incurable diseases or simply roll on bed snoring, their life off in a blissful bubble like me. I turned twenty two, yes it seems strange to accept that I am far from my teen years, but I did, do I look older, refined and appealing to the opposite sex or the same sex? No! To them I appear a short girl jumping in ripped trousers here and there with nerd glasses on. Before I turned twenty two I took a self challenge- To Complete the Fictions of Haruki Murakami translated in English.  Here is a part from the long self interview. I had a dream or maybe I was in a place where all my personalities meet and talk, a parallel universe. In this place the Twenty-two years old me, was being questioned by the Blogger Me. The two selves of mine were seated in a big room, the interviewer was wearing t-shirt, green harem ...

belongs to rightful creator I have many chatting friends, thanks to social media, fanfiction and this blog, I have made friends who exchange emails with me on various topics we enjoy passions for. Few of them exchange skype id and some trust me with phone numbers and we end up chatting in the greatest invention of our century- WhatsAap. I as an individual have created a web of virtual relations, where I have met haters, fellow queers, crazy otakus, geeks, philosophers and gossipmongers too! I have created countless harmless bonds which are both productive and educating. Among these unknown friends, I have been talking to certain someone for few weeks now. Talking to that person has made my mind tickle, a thought has sprouted in my head that though we have various means to communicate now, our communication has become short, to the point, precise and fragmented. They and I we often come to a screen zone where we are stuck at a ‘smileie’ or ‘hmm’.  A frozen spac...

DonQuixote Doflamingo, its the Manga Version of the Dialogue below In recent chapters and episodes of One Piece (My favourite Manga Series of all time) the current villain Doflamingo gives a very important statement. ‘I am laughing because I can’t get angrier than this’ as the actual Japanese translation stands on my screen, which is different from the Manga version above. At that moment I realized this ironhearted  bastard is speaking the thoughts of my mind. Sitting and swiping pages of the manga I had a sudden rise of sympathy instead of hate for one of the greatest Villains ever! I have had situations of absolute hopelessness many times, it’s not first time that I am ranting about frustration here on this blog. I have had broken laptop before, I had to leave college of my dreams for some stupid reason, I had hanging cell phone before, I had no balance in cell phone and that was the day many important things were happening, I had got myself debarred from usin...

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 ...