A Slice of Life

Come Monday, And we will easily forget The dim lights, the songs The laughter that consumed Us, and the mood that was set. Life will swing back To a routine clockwork Leaving only a feeling Of deep regret. But the blues are only mine Though I wish it was yours Too, but you will not look back As the button has been pressed; Once again, life has been reset. Artwork by: Tanmayee Chakraborty

To The Prime Minister of India 7, Lok Kalyan Marg New Delhi, India. Date: 13.04.2018 Respected Sir, Subject: Application request to buy a licensed gun First and foremost, warm greetings to you. I hope this letter finds you in the best of health and spirit. Let me begin by saying that I am a fan, right from the start when you had taken over as the Chief Minister of Gujarat. I am a commoner, just like you, born, educated and brought up in a corner of this country we both belong to. Needless to say, with your leadership qualities and charisma, you have been nothing short of an inspiration for many dreamers and commoners like me. But there is something I am, that you are not. I am a woman. That should not strike as something extraordinary, especially since nearly 50% of the population of India presently comprise of my gender. I am smart, educated and love to address a crowd from a dais, much like you do. However, in the fate of the recent events, including and especi...

It was a dull day at work for Tani, and she was at her desk, whiling away her time by browsing through the internet. The sound of rapid typing on keyboards filled the office floor, as everybody submerged themselves in the task at hand. The canteen boy, Vijay, was frequently making his way through the maze of desks, serving piping hot ‘ cutting chai ’; a tinkering noise being made every time he placed a miniature glass of tea on each table. Intermittently, the landline adjacent to her desk rang, the sound increasing in ascending order, due to a technical defect in the telephone model. The large printer at the far end of the floor contributed to the clutter of noise, continuously tossing oodles of typed papers. It sounded, as if the printer was shouting “ check out, check out! ” in quick succession. As Tani peeped over her desk, she could only see a sea of bald heads. They were carefully sipping on their glass of tea, flipping through the files at hand and typing out documents, in a ci...

This wait, is killing me A message is all I want to see From you, a random something. But it's midnight and I Am restless, can't deny For you, didn't write to me anything. How foolish of me To believe there could be A spark; some butterflies fluttering. Only innocence from you Nothing more, it's true But still, I find myself staggering.  I fueled this and I Should fast say goodbye Heart wrenching, it's ever consuming. To accept and deal Honey, shut it and seal This wait, it will be everlasting.